POTS  JOSElPM  VANCE 


t 


THE  BRASS  BOWL 


He  began  to  wade  cautiously  shoreward      Page  54 


THE  BRASS  BOWL 


LOUIS  JOSEPH  VANCE 

Author  of  The  Private  War 

Terence  O'Rourke,  Gentleman 
Adventurer 


With  Illustrations  by 
ORSON  LOWELL 


INDIANAPOLIS 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT   1907 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

MARCH 


ROBERT  DEUMMOND  COMPANY,   PKIN-JSiRS,  Ni-W 


Dedicated  to 
N.E.V. 


59G119 


Is  this  a  shape  for  reputation 
And  modesty  to  masque  In? 

— More  Dissemblers  Besides  Women 


THE  BRASS  BOWL 


THE  BRASS  BOWL  £ 

I 

DUST 

In  the  dull  hot  dusk  of  a  summer's  day  a  green 
touring-car,  swinging  out  of  the  East  Drive,  pulled 
up  smartly,  trembling,  at  the  edge  of  the  Fifty-ninth 
Street  car-tracks,  then  more  sedately,  under  the  dis 
passionate  but  watchful  eye  of  a  mounted  member  of 
the  Traffic  Squad,  lurched  across  the  Plaza  and 
merged  itself  in  the  press  of  vehicles  south-bound  on 
the  Avenue. 

Its  tonneau  held  four  young  men,  all  more  or  less 
disguised  in  dust,  dusters  and  goggles ;  forward,  by 
the  side  of  the  grimy  and  anxious-eyed  mechanic,  sat 
a  fifth,  in  all  visible  respects  the  counterpart  of  his 
companions.  Beneath  his  mask,  and  by  this  I  do 
not  mean  his  goggles,  but  the  mask  of  modern  man 
ner  which  the  worldly  wear,  he  was,  and  is,  different. 

1 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

He  was  Daniel  Maitland,  Esquire ;  for  whom  no  fur 
ther  introduction  should  be  required,  after  mentioi 
of  the  fact  that  he  was,  and  remains,  the  identica 
gentleman  of  means  and  position  in  the  social  am 
financial  worlds,  whose  somewhat  sober  but  sincere  am 
whole-hearted  participation  in  the  wildest  of  con 
ceivable  escapades  had  earned  him  the  affectionat 
regard  of  the  younger  set,  together  with  the  sobri 
quet  of  "  Mad  Maitland." 

His  companions  of  the  day,  the  four  in  the  ton 
neau,  were  in  that  humor  of  subdued  yet  vibrant  ex 
citement  which  is  apt  to  attend  the  conclusion  of 
long,  hard  drive  over  country  roads.  Maitland,  o 
the  other  hand,  (judging  him  by  his  preoccupie 
pose),  was  already  weary  of,  if  not  bored  by,  th 
hare-brained  enterprise  which,  initiated  on  the  spu 
of  an  idle  moment  and  directly  due  to  a  thoughtlei 
remark  of  his  own,  had  brought  him  a  hundred  milt 
(or  so)  through  the  heat  of  a  broiling  afternoor 
accompanied  by  spirits  as  ardent  and  irresponsibl 
as  his  own,  in  search  of  the  dubious  distraction  ai 
forded  by  the  night  side  of  the  city. 


DUST 

As,  picking  its  way  with  elephantine  nicety,  the 
motor-car  progressed  down  the  Avenue — twilight 
deepening,  arcs  upon  their  bronze  columns  blossom 
ing  suddenly,  noiselessly  into  spheres  of  opalescent 
radiance — Mr.  Maitland  ceased  to  respond,  ceased 
even  to  give  heed,  to  the  running  fire  of  chaff  (largely 
personal)  which  amused  his  companions.  Listlessly 
engaged  with  a  cigarette,  he  lounged  upon  the  green 
leather  cushions,  half  closing  his  eyes,  and  heartily 
wished  himself  free  for  the  evening. 

But  he  stood  committed  to  the  humor  of  the  ma 
jority,  and  lacked  entirely  the  shadow  of  an  excuse 
to  desert ;  in  addition  to  which  he  was  altogether  too 
lazy  for  the  exertion  of  manufacturing  a  Lie  of  serv 
iceable  texture.  And  so  abandoned  himself  to  his 
fate,  even  though  he  foresaw  with  weariful  particu 
larity  the  programme  of  the  coming  hours. 

To  begin  with,  thirty  minutes  were  to  be  devoted 
to  a  bath  and  dressing  in  his  rooms.  This  was  some 
thing  not  so  unpleasant  to  contemplate.  It  was  the 
afterwards  that  repelled  him :  the  dinner  at  Sherry's, 
the  subsequent  tour  of  roof  gardens,  the  late  supper 

3 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

at  a  club,  and  then,  prolonged  far  into  the  small 
hours,  the  session  around  some  green-covered  table 
in  a  close  room  reeking  with  the  fumes  of  good  to 
bacco  and  hot  with  the  fever  of  gambling.  .  .  . 

Abstractedly  Maitland  frowned,  tersely  summing 
up :  "  Beastly  !  " — in  an  undertone. 

At  this  the  green  car  wheeled  abruptly  round  a 
corner  below  Thirty-fourth  Street,  slid  half  a  block 
or  more  east,  and  came  to  a  palpitating  halt.  Mait 
land,  looking  up,  recognized  the  entrance  to  his 
apartments,  and  sighed  with  relief  for  the  brief  res 
pite  from  boredom  that  was  to  be  his.  He  rose, 
negligently  shaking  off  his  duster,  and  stepped  down 
to  the  sidewalk. 

Somebody  in  the  car  called  a  warning  after  him, 
and  turning  for  a  moment  he  stood  at  attention,  an 
eyebrow  raised  quizzically,  cigarette  drooping  from 
a  corner  of  his  mouth,  hat  pushed  back  from  his  fore 
head,  hands  in  coat  pockets :  a  tall,  slender,  sparely- 
built  figure  of  a  man,  clothed  immaculately  in 
flannels. 

When  at  length  he  was  able  to  make  himself  heard, 
4 


DUST 

"  Good  enough,"  he  said  clearly,  though  without 
raising  his  voice.  "  Sherry's  in  an  hour.  Right. 
Now,  behave  yourselves." 

"  Mind  you  show  up  on  time ! " 

"  Never  fear,"  returned  Maitland  over  his 
shoulder. 

A  witticism  was  flung  back  at  him  from  the  re 
treating  car,  but  spent  itself  unregarded.  Mait- 
land's  attention  was  temporarily  distracted  by  the 
unusual — to  say  the  least — sight  of  a  young  and  at 
tractive  woman  coming  out  of  a  home  for  confirmed 
bachelors. 

The  apartment  house  happened  to  be  his  own  prop 
erty.  A  substantial  and  old-fashioned  edifice,  situ 
ated  in  the  middle  of  a  quiet  block,  it  contained  but 
five  roomy  and  comfortable  suites, — in  other  words, 
one  to  a  floor ;  and  these  were  without  exception  ten 
anted  by  unmarried  men  of  Maitland's  own  circle  and 
acquaintance.  The  janitor,  himself  a  widower  and 
a  convinced  misogynist,  lived  alone  in  the  basement. 
Barring  very  special  and  exceptional  occasions  (as 
when  one  of  the  bachelors  felt  called  upon  to  give  a 

5 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

tea  in  partial  recognition  of  social  obligations),  the 
foot  of  woman  never  crossed  its  threshold. 

In   this  circumstance,  indeed,  was   comprised  the 
singular  charm  the  house  had  for  its  occupants.    The 
quality  which  insured  them  privacy  and  a  quiet  inde 
pendence  rendered  them  oblivious  to  its  many  minor 
drawbacks,  its  lack  of  many  conveniences  and  luxu 
ries  which  have  of  late  grown  to  be  so  commonly  re 
garded  as  necessities.     It  boasted,  for  instance,  no 
garage;  no  refrigerating  system  maddened  those  de 
pendent  upon  it;  a  dissipated  electric  lighting  system 
never  went  out  of  nights,  because  it  had  never  been 
installed;  no  brass-bound  hall-boy  lounged  in  desue 
tude  upon  the  stoop  and  took  too  intimate  and  per 
sonal  an  interest  in  the  tenants'  correspondence.    The 
inhabitants,  in  brief,  were  free  to  come  and  go  ac 
cording  to  the  dictates  of  their  consciences,  unsuper- 
vised  by  neighborly   women-folk,  unhindered  by   a 
parasitic   corps   of   menials   not   in   their   personal 

employ. 

Wherefore  was  Maitland  astonished,  and  the  moi 
so  because  of  the  season.    At  any  other  season  of  the 

6 


tit* 


She  fumbled  with  a  refractory  button      Page  7 


DUST 

year  he  would  readily  have  accounted  for  the  phe 
nomenon  that  now  fell  under  his  observation,  on  the 
hypothesis  that  the  woman  was  somebody's  sister  or 
cousin  or  aunt.  But  at  present  that  explanation  was 
untenable;  Maitland  happened  to  know  that  not  one 
of  the  other  men  was  in  New  York,  barring  himself ; 
and  his  own  presence  there  was  a  thing  entirely 
unforeseen. 

Still  incredulous,  he  mentally  conned  the  list: 
Barnes,  who  occupied  the  first  flat,  was  traveling  on 
the  Continent;  Conkling,  of  the  third,  had  left  a 
fortnight  since  to  join  a  yachting  party  on  the  Med 
iterranean  ;  Bannister  and  Wilkes,  of  the  fourth  and 
fifth  floors,  respectively,  were  in  Newport  and  Buenos 
Aires. 

"Odd!"  concluded  Maitland. 

So  it  was.  She  had  just  closed  the  door,  one 
thought;  and  now  stood  poised  as  if  in  momentary 
indecision  on  the  low  stoop,  glancing  toward  Fiftli 
Avenue  the  while  she  fumbled  with  a  refractory  but 
ton  at  the  wrist  of  a  long  white  kid  glove.  Blurnd 
though  it  was  by  the  darkling  twilight  and  a  thin  veil, 

7 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

her  face  yet  conveyed  an  impression  of  prettiness: 
an  impression  enhanced  by  careful  grooming.  From 
her  hat,  a  small  affair,  something  green,  with  a  su 
perstructure  of  grey  ostrich  feathers,  to  the  tips  of 
her  russet  shoes, — including  a  walking  skirt  and  bo 
lero  of  shimmering  grey  silk, — she  was  distinctly 
"  smart  "  and  interesting. 

He  had  keenly  observant  eyes,  had  Maitland,  for 
all  his  detached  pose;  you  are  to  understand  that  he 
comprehended  all  these  points  in  the  flickering  of  an 
instant.  For  the  incident  was  over  in  two  seconds. 
In  one  the  lady's  hesitation  was  resolved ;  in  another 
she  had  passed  down  the  steps  and  swept  by  Mait 
land  without  giving  him  a  glance,  without  even  the 
trembling  of  an  eyelash.  And  he  had  a  view  of  her 
back  as  she  moved  swiftly  away  toward  the  Avenue. 

Perplexed,  he  lingered  upon  the  stoop  until  she 
had  turned  the  corner ;  after  which  he  let  himself  in 
with  a  latch-key,  and,  dismissing  the  affair  tempo 
rarily  from  his  thoughts,  or  pretending  to  do  so, 
ascended  the  single  flight  of  stairs  to  his  flat. 

Simultaneously  heavy  feet  were  to  be  heard  clump- 
8 


DUST 

ing  up  the  basement  steps ;  and  surmising  that  the 
janitor  was  coming  to  light  the  hall,  the  young  man 
waited,  leaning  over  the  balusters.  His  guess  prov 
ing  correct,  he  called  down: 

"  O'Hagan  ?    Is  that  you  ?  " 

"  Th'  saints  presarve  us !  But  'twas  yersilf  gave 
me  th'  sthart,  Misther  Maitland,  sor!"  O'Hagan 
paused  in  the  gloom  below,  his  upturned  face  quaintly 
illuminated  by  the  flame  of  a  wax  taper  in  his  gas- 
lighter. 

"  I'm  dining  in  town  to-night,  O'Hagan,  and 
dropped  around  to  dress.  Is  anybody  else  at  home?  " 

"  Nivver  a  wan,  sor.  Shure,  th'  house  do  be  quiet's 
anny  tomb " 

"  Then  who  was  that  lady,  O'Hagan?  " 

"  Leddy,  sor  ?  " — in  unbounded  amazement. 

"  Yes,"  impatiently.  "  A  young  woman  left  the 
house  just  as  I  was  coming  in.  Who  was  she?  " 

"  Shure  an'  I  think  ye  must  be  dr'amin',  sor. 
Divvle  a  female — rayspicts  to  ye! — has  been  in  this 
house  for  manny  an'  manny  th'  wake,  sor." 

"  But,  I  tell  you " 

9 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"Belike  'twas  somewan  jist  sthepped  into  the 
vesthibule,  mebbe  to  tie  her  shoe,  sor,  and  ye 
thought " 

"Oh,  very  well."  Maitland  relinquished  the  in 
quisition  as  unprofitable,  willing  to  concede  O'Ha- 
gan's  theory  a  reasonable  one,  the  more  readily  since 
he  himself  could  by  no  means  have  sworn  that  the 
woman  had  actually  come  out  through  the  door. 
Such  had  merely  been  his  impression,  honest  enough, 
but  founded  on  circumstantial  evidence. 

"When  you're  through,  O'Hagan,"  he  told  the 
Irishman,  "  you  may  come  and  shave  me  and  lay  out 
my  things,  if  you  will." 

"  Very  good,  sor.    In  wan  minute." 

But  O'Hagan's  conception  of  the  passage  of  time 
was  a  thought  vague:  his  one  minute  had  length 
ened  into  ten  before  he  appeared  to  wait  upon  his 
employer. 

Now  and  again,  in  the  absence  of  the  regular 
"  man,"  O'Hagan  would  attend  one  or  another  of  the 
tenants  in  the  capacity  of  substitute  valet :  as  in  the 
present  instance,  when  Maitland,  having  left  his  host's 

10 


DUST 

roof  without  troubling  even  to  notify  his  body-serv 
ant  that  he  would  not  return  that  night,  called  upon 
the  janitor  to  understudy  the  more  trained  employee; 
which  O'Hagan  could  be  counted  upon  to  do  very 
acceptably. 

Now,  with  patience  unruffled,  since  he  was  nothing 
keen  for  the  evening's  enjoyment,  Maitland  made 
profit  of  the  interval  to  wander  through  his  rooms, 
lighting  the  gas  here  and  there  and  noting  that  all 
was  as  it  should  be,  as  it  had  been  left — save  that 
every  article  of  furniture  and  bric-a-brac  seemed  to 
be  sadly  in  want  of  a  thorough  dusting.  In  the  end 
he  brought  up  in  the  room  that  served  him  as  study 
and  lounge, — the  drawing-room  of  the  flat,  as 
planned  in  the  forgotten  architect's  scheme, — a  large 
and  well-lighted  apartment  overlooking  the  street. 
Here,  pausing  beneath  the  chandelier,  he  looked 
about  him  for  a  moment,  determining  that,  as  else 
where,  all  things  were  in  order — but  grey  with  dust. 

Finding  the  atmosphere  heavy,  stale,  and  oppres 
sive,  Maitland  moved  over  to  the  windows  and  threw 
them  open.  A  gush  of  warm  air,  humid  and  redolent 

11 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

of  the  streets,  invaded  the  room,  together  with  the 
roar  of  traffic  from  its  near-by  arteries.  Maitland 
rested  elbows  on  the  sill  and  leaned  out,  staring  ab 
sently  into  the  night ;  for  by  now  it  was  quite  dark. 
Without  concern,  he  realized  that  he  would  be  late  at 
dinner.  No  matter ;  he  would  as  willingly  miss  it  alto 
gether.  For  the  time  being  he  was  absorbed  in  vain 
speculations  about  an  unknown  woman  whose  sole 
claim  upon  his  consideration  lay  in  a  certain  but  im 
material  glamour  of  mystery.  Had  she,  or  had  she 
not,  been  in  the  house  ?  And,  if  the  true  answer  were 
in  the  affirmative:  to  what  end,  upon  what  errand? 

His  eyes  focused  insensibly  upon  a  void  of  dark 
ness  beneath  him, — night  made  visible  by  street 
lamps ;  and  he  found  himself  suddenly  and  acutely 
sensible  of  the  wonder  and  mystery  of  the  City :  the 
City  whose  secret  life  ran  fluent  upon  the  hot,  hard 
pavements  below,  whose  voice  throbbed,  sibilant, 
vague,  strident,  inarticulate,  upon  the  night  air ;  the 
City  of  which  he  was  a  part  equally  with  the  girl  in 
grey,  whom  he  had  never  before  seen,  and  in  all  like 
lihood  was  never  to  see  again,  though  the  two  of  them 


DUST 

were  to  work  out  their  destinies  within  the  bounds  of 
Manhattan  Island.  And  yet.  .  .  . 

"  It  would  be  strange,"  said  Maitland  thought 
fully,  "if  .  .  ."  He  shook  his  head,  smiling. 
"  *  Tico  shall  be  bom,9  "  quoted  Mad  Maitland  senti 
mentally, — 

" '  Two  shall  be  born  the  whole  wide  world 
apart * " 

A  piano  organ,  having  maliciously  sneaked  up  be 
neath  his  window,  drove  him  indoors  with  a  crash  of 
metallic  melody. 

As  he  dropped  the  curtains  his  eye  was  arrested 
by  a  gleam  of  white  upon  his  desk, — a  letter  placed 
there,  doubtless,  by  O'Hagan  in  Maitland's  absence. 
At  the  same  time,  a  splashing  and  gurgling  of  water 
from  the  direction  of  the  bath-room  informed  him 
that  the  janitor-valet  was  even  then  preparing  his 
bath.  But  that  could  wait. 

Maitland  took  up  the  envelope  and  tore  the  flap, 
remarking  the  name  and  address  of  his  lawyer  in  its 
upper  left-hand  corner.  Unfolding  the  inclosurc,  he 
read  a  date  a  week  old,  and  two  lines  requesting  him 

13 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

to  communicate  with  his  legal  adviser  upon  «  a  mat 
ter  of  pressing  moment." 

Bother!"    said    Maitland.      "What    the    dick- 


n 

ens- 


He  pulled  up  short,  eyes  lighting.  '  That's  so, 
you  know,"  he  argued:  "  Bannerman  will  be  de 
lighted,  and— and  even  business  is  better  than  rush 
ing  round  town  and  pretending  to  enjoy  yourself 
when  it's  hotter  than  the  seven  brass  hinges  of  hell 
and  you  can't  think  of  anything  else.  .  .  .  Ill 

doit!" 

He  stepped  quickly  to  the  corner  of  the  room, 
where  stood  the  telephone  upon  a  small  side  table, 
sat  down,  and,  receiver  to  ear,  gave  Central  a  num 
ber.  In  another  moment  he  was  in  communication 
with  his  attorney's  residence. 

"  Is  Mr.  Bannerman  in?     I  would  like  to -" 

9  * 

"  Why,  Mr.  Bannerman !    How  do  you  do?  " 
. 

"  You're  looking  a  hundred  per  cent,  better * 

* 
"Bad,  bad  word!     Naughty  1 * 

14 


DUdT 

"  Maitland,  of  course." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Been  out  of  town  and  just  got  your  note." 

"  Your  beastly  penchant  for  economy.  It's  not 
stamped ;  I  presume  you  sent  it  round  by  hand  of  the 
future  President  of  the  United  States  whom  you  now 
employ  as  office-boy.  And  O'Hagan  didn't  forward 

it  for  that  reason." 

•  •  •  •  •' 

"  Important,  eh?     I'm  only  in  for  the  night " 

"  Then  come  and  dine  with  me  at  the  Primordial. 

I'll  put  the  others  off." 

•  -#.'..'-•  •  • 

"Good  enough.  In  an  hour,  then?  Good-by." 
Hanging  up  the  receiver,  Maitland  waited  a  few 
moments  ere  again  putting  it  to  his  ear.  This  time 
he  called  up  Sherry's,  asked  for  the  head-waiter,  and 
requested  that  person  to  be  kind  enough  to  make  his 
excuses  to  "  Mr.  Cressy  and  his  party  " :  he,  Mait 
land,  was  detained  upon  a  matter  of  moment,  but 
would  endeavor  to  join  them  at  a  later  hour. 

15 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Then,  with  a  satisfied  smile,  he  turned  away,  with 
purpose  to  dispose  of  Bannerman's  note. 

"  Bath's  ready,  sor." 

O'Hagan's  announcement  fell  upon  heedless  ears. 
Maitland  remained  motionless  before  the  desk — trans 
fixed  with  amazement. 

"  Bath's  ready,  sor !  " — imperatively. 

Maitland  roused  slightly. 

"  Very  well ;  in  a  minute,  O'Hagan." 

Yet  for  some  time  he  did  not  move.  Slowly  the 
heavy  brows  contracted  over  intent  eyes  as  he  strove 
to  puzzle  it  out.  At  length  his  lips  moved  noise 
lessly. 

"  Am  I  awake? "  was  the  question  he  put  his 
consciousness. 

Wondering,  he  bent  forward  and  drew  the  tip  of 
one  forefinger  across  the  black  polished  wood  of  the 
writing-bed.  It  left  a  dark,  heavy  line.  And  beside 
it,  clearly  defined  in  the  heavy  layer  of  dust,  was  the 
silhouette  of  a  hand ;  a  woman's  hand,  small,  delicate, 
unmistakably  feminine  of  contour. 

16 


DUST 

"Well!"  declared  Maitland  frankly,  "I  am 
damned ! " 

Further  and  closer  inspection  developed  the  fact 
that  the  imprint  had  been  only  recently  made.  Within 
the  hour, — unless  Maitland  were  indeed  mad  or 
dreaming, — a  woman  had  stood  by  that  desk  and 
rested  a  hand,  palm  down,  upon  it ;  not  yet  had  the 
dust  had  time  to  settle  and  blur  the  sharp  outlines. 

Maitland  shook  his  head  with  bewilderment,  think 
ing  of  the  grey  girl.  But  no.  He  rejected  his  half- 
formed  explanation — the  obvious  one.  Besides,  what 
had  he  there  worth  a  thief's  while?  Beyond  a  few 
articles  of  "  virtue  and  bigotry  "  and  his  pictures, 
there  was  nothing  valuable  in  the  entire  flat.  His 
papers?  But  he  had  nothing:  a  handful  of  letters, 
cheque  book,  a  pass  book,  a  japanned  tin  des 
patch  box  containing  some  business  memoranda  and 
papers  destined  eventually  for  Bannerman's  hands; 
but  nothing  negotiable,  nothing  worth  a  burglar's 
while. 

It  was  a  flat-topped  desk,  of  mahogany,  with  two 
pedestals  of  drawers,  all  locked.  Maitland  deter- 

17 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

mined  this  latter  fact  by  trying  to  open  them  with 
out  a  key;  failing,  his  key-ring  solved  the  difficulty 
in  a  jiffy.  But  the  drawers  seemed  undisturbed; 
nothing  had  been  either  handled,  or  removed,  or  dis 
placed,  so  far  as  he  could  determine.  And  again 
he  wagged  his  head  from  side  to  side  in  solemn 
stupefaction. 

"  This  is  beyond  you,  Dan,  my  boy."  And :  "  But 
I've  got  to  know  what  it  means." 

In  the  hall  O'Hagan  was  shuffling  impatience. 
Pondering  deeply,  Maitland  relocked  the  desk,  and 
got  upon  his  feet.  A  small  bowl  of  beaten  brass, 
which  he  used  as  an  ash-receiver,  stood  ready  to  his 
hand ;  he  took  it  up,  carefully  blew  it  clean  of  dust, 
and  inverted  it  over  the  print  of  the  hand.  On  top 
of  the  bowl  he  placed  a  weighty  afterthought  in  the 
shape  of  a  book. 

"  O'Hagan ! " 

"  Waitin',  sor." 

"  Come  hither,  O'Hagan.    You  see  that  desk?  " 

"  Yissor." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

18 


DUST 

"  Ah,  faith " 

"I  want  you  not  to  <ouch  it,  O'Hagan.  Under 
penalty  of  my  extreme  displeasure,  don't  lay  a 
finger  on  it  till  I  give  you  permission.  Doa?t  dare  to 
dust  it.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yissor.    Very  good,  Mr.  Maitland." 


II 

POST-PRANDIAL 

Bannerman  pushed  back  his  chair  a  few  inches, 
shifting  position  the  better  to  benefit  of  a  faint  air 
that  fanned  in  through  the  open  window.  Maitland, 
twisting  the  sticky  stem  of  a  liqueur  glass  between 
thumb  and  forefinger,  sat  in  patient  waiting  for  the 
lawyer  to  speak. 

But  Bannerman  was  in  no  hurry;  his  mood  was 
rather  one  contemplative  and  genial.  He  was  a  round 
and  cherubic  little  man,  with  the  face  of  a  guileless 
child,  the  acumen  of  a  successful  counsel  for  soulless 
corporations  (that  is  to  say,  of  a  high  order),  no 
particular  sense  of  humor,  and  a  great  appreciation 
of  good  eating.  And  Maitland  was  famous  in  his 
day  as  one  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  art  of 

ordering  a  dinner. 

That  which  they  had  just  discussed  had  been  un 
common  in  all  respects;  Maitland's  scheme  of  courses 

20 


POST-PRANDIAL 

and  his  specification  as  to  details  had  roused  the  ad 
miration  of  the  Primordial's  chef  and  put  him  on  his 
mettle.  He  had  outdone  himself  in  his  efforts  to  do 
justice  to  Mr.  Maitland's  genius;  and  the  Primordial 
in  its  deadly  conservatism  remains  to  this  day  one  of 
the  very  few  places  in  New  York  where  good,  sound 
cooking  is  to  be  had  by  the  initiate. 

Therefore  Bannerman  sucked  thoughtfully  at  his 
cigar  and  thought  fondly  of  a  salad  that  had  been 
to  ordinary  salads  as  his  80-H.-P.  car  was  to  an 
electric  buckboard.  While  Maitland,  with  all  time  at 
his  purchase,  idly  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette 
and  followed  his  attorney's  meditative  gaze  out 
through  the  window. 

Because  of  the  heat  the  curtains  were  looped  back, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  obstruct  the  view.  Madi 
son  Square  lay  just  over  the  sill,  a  dark  wilderness 
of  foliage  here  and  there  made  livid  green  by  arc- 
lights.  Its  walks  teemed  with  humanity,  its  benches 
were  crowded.  Dimly  from  its  heart  came  the  cool 
plashing  of  the  fountain,  in  lulls  that  fell  unaccount 
ably  in  the  roaring  rustle  of  restless  feet.  Over 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

across,  Broadway  raised  glittering  walls  of  glass 
and  stone ;  and  thence  came  the  poignant  groan  and 
rumble  of  surface  cars  crawling  upon  their  weary 
and  unvarying  rounds. 

And  again  Maitland  thought  of  the  City,  and  of 
Destiny,  and  of  the  grey  girl  the  silhouette  of  whose 
hand  was  imprisoned  beneath  the  brass  bowl  on  his 
study  desk.  For  by  now  he  was  quite  satisfied  that 
she  and  none  other  had  trespassed  upon  the  privacy 
of  his  rooms,  obtaining  access  to  them  in  his  absence 
by  means  as  unguessable  as  her  motive.  Momenta 
rily  he  considered  taking  Bannerman  into  his  confi 
dence;  but  he  questioned  the  advisability  of  this: 
Bannerman  was  so  severely  practical  in  his  outlook 
upon  life,  while  this  adventure  had  been  so  madly 
whimsical,  so  engagingly  impossible.  Bannerman 
would  be  sure  to  suggest  a  call  at  the  precinct  police 
station.  ...  If  she  had  made  way  with  any 
thing,  it  would  be  different ;  but  so  far  as  Maitland 
had  been  able  to  determine,  she  had  abstracted 
nothing,  disturbed  nothing  beyond  a  few  square 
inches  of  dust. 


POST-PRANDIAL 

Unwillingly  Bannerman  put  the  salad  out  of 
mind  and  turned  to  the  business  whose  immediate 
moment  had  brought  them  together.  He  hummed 
softly,  calling  his  client  to  attention.  Maitland  came 
out  of  his  reverie,  vaguely  smiling. 

"  I'm  waiting,  old  man.     What's  up?  " 

"  The  Graeme  business.  His  lawyers  have  been 
after  me  again.  I  even  had  a  call  from  the  old  man 
himself." 

"Yes?  The  Graeme  business?"  Maitland's  ex 
pression  was  blank  for  a  moment;  then  comprehen 
sion  informed  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  yes ;  in  connection  with 
the  Dougherty  investment  swindle." 

"  That's  it.     Graeme's  pleading  for  mercy." 

Maitland  lifted  his  shoulders  significantly.  "  That 
was  to  be  expected,  wasn't  it?  What  did  you  tell 
him?" 

"  That  I'd  see  you." 

"  Did  you  hold  out  to  him  any  hopes  that  I'd  be 
easy  on  the  gang?  " 

"  I  told  him  that  I  doubted  if  you  could  be  induced 
to  let  up." 

£3 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Then  why ?  " 

"  Why,  because  Graeme  himself  is  as  innocent  of 
wrong-doing  and  wrong-intent  as  you  are." 

"  You  believe  that?  " 

"  I  do,"  affirmed  Bannerman.  His  fat  pink  fingers 
drummed  uneasily  on  the  cloth  for  a  few  moments. 
"  There  isn't  any  question  that  the  Dougherty  peo 
ple  induced  you  to  sink  your  money  in  their  enter 
prise  with  intent  to  defraud  you." 

"I  should  think  not,"  Maitland  interjected, 
amused. 

"  But  old  man  Graeme  was  honest,  in  intention  at 
least.  He  meant  no  harm;  and  in  proof  of  that  he 
offers  to  shoulder  your  loss  himself,  if  by  so  doing 
he  can  induce  you  to  drop  further  proceedings. 
That  proves  he's  in  earnest,  Dan,  for  although 
Graeme  is  comfortably  well  to  do,  it's  a  known  fact 
that  the  loss  of  a  cool  half -million,  while  it's  a  drop 
in  the  bucket  to  you,  would  cripple  him." 

"  Then  why  doesn't  he  stand  to  his  associates,  and 
make  them  each  pay  back  their  fair  share  of  the 


POST-PRANDIAL 

loot?  That'd  bring  his  liability  down  to  about  fifty 
thousand." 

"  Because  they  won't  give  up  without  a  contest  in 
the  courts.  They  deny  your  proofs — you  have  those 
papers,  haven't  you?  " 

"  Safe,  under  lock  and  key,"  asserted  Maitland 
sententiously.  "  When  the  time  comes  I'll  produce 
them." 

"  And  they  incriminate  Graeme?  " 

"  They  make  it  look  as  black  for  him  as  for  the 
others.  Do  you  honestly  believe  him  innocent,  Ban- 
nerman  ?  " 

"  I  do,  implicitly.  The  dread  of  exposure,  the  fear 
of  notoriety  when  the  case  comes  up  in  court,  has 
aged  the  man  ten  years.  He  begged  me  with  tears 
in  his  eyes  to  induce  you  to  drop  it  and  accept  his 
offer  of  restitution.  Don't  you  think  you  could  do 
it,  Dan?" 

"  No,  I  don't."  Maitland  shook  his  head  with  de 
cision.  "  If  I  let  up,  the  scoundrels  get  off  scot-free. 
I  have  nothing  against  Graeme ;  I  am  willing  to  make 

35 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

it  as  light  as  I  can  for  him ;  but  this  business  has  got 
to  be  aired  in  the  courts ;  the  guilty  will  have  to  suf 
fer.  It  will  be  a  lesson  to  the  public,  a  lesson  to  the 
scamps,  and  a  lesson  to  Graeme — not  to  lend  his 
name  too  freely  to  questionable  enterprises." 

"  And  that's  your  final  word,  is  it?  " 

"  Final,  Bannerman.  .  .  .  You  go  ahead ; 
prepare  your  case  and  take  it  to  court.  When  the 
time  comes,  as  I  say,  I'll  produce  these  papers.  I 
can't  go  on  this  way,  letting  people  believe  that 
I'm  an  easy  mark  just  because  I  was  unfortunate 
enough  to  inherit  more  money  than  is  good  for  my 
wholesome." 

Maitland  twisted  his  eyebrows  in  deprecation  of 
Bannerman's  attitude;  signified  the  irrevocability  of 
his  decision  by  bringing  his  fist  down  upon  the  table 
— but  not  heavily  enough  to  disturb  the  other  diners ; 
and,  laughing,  changed  the  subject. 

For  some  moments  he  gossiped  cheerfully  of  his 
new  power-boat,  Bannerman  attending  to  the  incon 
sequent  details  with  an  air  of  abstraction.  Once  or 
twice  he  appeared  about  to  interrupt,  but  changed 

26 


POST-PRANDIAL 

his  mind:  but  because  his  features  were  so  wholly 
infantile  and  open  and  candid,  the  time  came  when 
Maitland  could  no  longer  ignore  his  evident  pertur 
bation. 

"Now  what's  the  trouble?"  he  demanded  with  a 
trace  of  asperity.  "  Can't  you  forget  that  Graeme 
business  and 

"  Oh,   it's   not  that."      Bannerman   dismissed   the 
troubles  of  Mr.  Graeme  with  an  airy  wave  of  a  pudgy 
hand.     "  That's  not  my  funeral,  nor  yours. 
Only  I've  been  worried,  of  late,  by  your  utterly  care 
less  habits." 

Maitland  looked  his  consternation.  "  In  heaven's 
name,  what  now?"  And  grinned  as  he  joined  hands 
before  him  in  simulated  petition.  "  Please  don't  read 
me  a  lecture  just  now,  dear  boy.  If  you've  got 
something  dreadful  on  your  chest  wait  till  another 
day,  when  I'm  more  in  the  humor  to  be  found  fault 
with." 

"  No  lecture."  Bannerman  laughed  nervously. 
"  I've  merely  been  wondering  what  you  have  done 
with  the  Maitland  heirlooms." 

37 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  What?  Oh,  those  things?  They're  safe  enough 
— in  the  safe  out  at  Greenfields." 

"  To  be  sure !  Quite  so !  "  agreed  the  lawyer,  with 
ironic  heartiness.  "  Oh,  quite."  And  proceeded  to 
take  all  Madison  Square  into  his  confidence,  address 
ing  it  from  the  window.  "  Here's  a  young  man,  sole 
proprietor  of  a  priceless  collection  of  family  heir 
looms, — diamonds,  rubies,  sapphires  galore;  and  he 
thinks  they're  safe  enough  in  a  safe  at  his  country 
residence,  fifty  miles  from  anywhere!  What  a  sim 
ple,  trustful  soul  it  is !  " 

66  Why  should  I  bother?  "  argued  Maitland  sulkily. 
"  It's  a  good,  strong  safe,  and — and  there  are  plenty 
of  servants  around,"  he  concluded  largely. 

"  Precisely.  Likewise  plenty  of  burglars.  You 
don't  suppose  a  determined  criminal  like  Anisty,  for 
instance,  would  bother  himself  about  a  handful  of 
thick-headed  servants,  do  you?  " 

"  Anisty?  " — with  a  rising  inflection  of  inquiry. 

Bannerman  squared  himself  to  face  his  host,  el 
bows  on  table.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  not 
heard  of  Anisty,  the  great  Anisty  ?  "  he  demanded. 

£8 


POST-PRANDIAL 

"I  dare  say  I  have,"  Maitland  conceded,  unper 
turbed.  "Name  rings  familiar,  somehow." 

"Anisty," — deliberately,  "is  said  to  be  the  great 
est  jewel  thief  the  world  has  ever  known.  He  has  the 
police  of  America  and  Europe  by  the  ears  to  catch 
him.  They  have  been  hot  on  his  trail  for  the  past 
three  years,  and  would  have  nabbed  him  a  dozen  times 
if  only  he'd  had  the  grace  to  stay  in  one  place  long 
enough.  The  man  who  made  off  with  the  Bracegirdle 
diamonds,  smashing  a  burglar-proof  vault  into  scrap- 
iron  to  get  'em — don't  you  remember?" 

"Ye-es ;  I  seem  to  recall  the  affair,  now  that  you 
mention  it,"  Maitland  admitted,  bored.  "Well,  and 
what  of  Mr.  Anisty  ?" 

"Only  what  I  have  told  you,  taken  in  connection 
with  the  circumstance  that  he  is  known  to  be  in  New 
York,  and  that  the  Maitland  heirlooms  are  tolerably 
famous — as  much  so  as  your  careless  habits,  Dan. 
Now,  a  safe  deposit  vault " 

"Um-m-m,"  considered  Maitland.  "You  really  be 
lieve  that  Mr.  Anisty  has  his  bold  burglarious  eye  on 
my  property?" 

29 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

44  It's  a  big  enough  haul  to  attract  him,"  argued 
the  lawyer  earnestly ;  "  Anisty  always  aims  high. 
.  .  .  Now,  will  you  do  what  I  have  been  begging 
you  to  do  for  the  past  eight  years?  " 

"  Seven,"  corrected  Maitland  punctiliously.  "  It's 
just  seven  years  since  I  entered  into  mine  inheritance 
and  you  became  my  counselor." 

"  Well,  seven,  then.  But  will  you  put  those  jewels 
in  safe  deposit?  " 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so." 

"But  when?" 

"  Would  it  suit  you  if  I  ran  out  to-night?  "  Mait 
land  demanded  so  abruptly  that  Barmerman  was  dis 
concerted. 

«  I_er— ask  nothing  better." 

"  I'll  bring  them  in  town  to-morrow.  You  ar 
range  about  the  vault  and  advise  me,  will  you,  like 
a  good  fellow?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul !  I  never  dreamed  that  you  would 
be  so— so " 

"  Amenable  to  discipline?  "  Maitland  grinned,  boy- 
like,  and,  leaning  back,  appreciated  Bannerman's 


POST-PRANDIAL 

startled  expression  with  keen  enjoyment.  "  Well, 
consider  that  for  once  you've  scared  me.  I'm  off — 
just  time  to  catch  the  ten-twenty  for  Greenfields. 
Waiter!" 

He  scrawled  his  initials  at  the  bottom  of  the  bill 
presented  him,  and  rose.  "  Sorry,  Bannerman,"  he 
said,  chuckling,  "  to  cut  short  a  pleasant  evening. 
But  you  shouldn't  startle  me  so,  you  know.  Pardon 
me  if  I  run ;  I  might  miss  that  train." 

"  But  there  was  something  else " 

"  It  can  wait." 

"  Take  a  later  train,  then." 

"  What!  With  this  grave  peril  hanging  over  me? 
//^possible !  'Night." 

Bannerman,  discomfited,  saw  Maitland's  shoulders 
disappear  through  the  dining-room  doorway,  medi 
tated  pursuit,  thought  better  of  it,  and  reseated  him 
self,  frowning. 

"  Mad  Maitland,  indeed !  "  he  commented. 

As  for  the  gentleman  so  characterized,  he  emerged, 
a  moment  later,  from  the  portals  of  the  club,  still 
chuckling  mildly  to  himself  as  he  struggled  into  a 

31 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

light  evening  overcoat.  His  temper,  having  run  the 
gamut  of  boredom,  interest,  perturbation,  mystifica 
tion,  and  plain  amusement,  was  now  altogether  in 
consequential:  a  dangerous  mood  for  Maitland. 
Standing  on  the  corner  of  Twenty-sixth  Street  he 
thought  it  over,  tapping  the  sidewalk  gently  with 
his  cane.  Should  he  or  should  he  not  carry  out  his 
intention  as  declared  to  Bannerman,  and  go  to  Green 
fields  that  same  night?  Or  should  he  keep  his  belated 
engagement  with  Cressy's  party? 

An  errant  cabby,  cruising  aimlessly  but  hopefully, 
sighted  Maitland's  tall  figure  and  white  shirt  from 
a  distance,  and  bore  down  upon  him  with  a  gallant 
clatter  of  hoofs. 

"  Kebsir?  "  he  demanded  breathlessly,  pulling  in 
at  the  corner. 

Maitland  came  out  of  his  reverie  and  looked  up 
slowly.  "  Why  yes,  thank  you,"  he  assented  amiably. 

"Where  to,  sir?" 

Maitland  paused  on  the  forward  deck  of  the  craft 
and  faced  about,  looking  the  cabby  trustfully  in  the 


POST-PRANDIAL 

eye.  "  I  leave  it  to  you,"  he  replied  politely.  "  Just 
as  you  please." 

The  driver  gasped. 

"  You  see,"  Maitland  continued  with  a  courteous 
smile,  "  I  have  two  engagements :  one  at  Sherry's, 
the  other  with  the  ten-twenty  train  from  Long  Island 
City.  What  would  you,  as  man  to  man,  advise  me 
to  do,  cabby?" 

"  Well,  sir,  seem'  as  you  puts  it  to  me  straight," 
returned  the  cabby  with  engaging  candor,  "  I'd  go 
home,  sir,  if  I  was  you,  afore  I  got  any  worse." 

"  Thank  you,"  gravely.  "  Long  Island  City  depot, 
then,  cabby." 

Maitland  extended  himself  languidly  upon  the 
cushions.  "  Surely,"  he  told  the  night,  "  the  driver 
knows  best — he  and  Bannerman." 

The  cab  started  off  jogging  so  sedately  up  Madi 
son  Avenue  that  Maitland  glanced  at  his  watch  and 
elevated  his  brows  dubiously;  then  with  his  stick 
poked  open  the  trap  in  the  roof. 

"  If  you  really  think  it  best  for  me  to  go  home, 
33 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

cabby,  you'll  have  to  drive  like  hell,"  he  suggested 
mildly. 

"Yessir!" 

A  whip-lash  cracked  loudly  over  the  horse's  back, 
and  the  hansom,  lurching  into  Thirty-fourth  Street 
on  one  wheel,  was  presently  jouncing  eastward  over 
rough  cobbles,  at  a  regardless  pace  which  roused  the 
gongs  of  the  surface  cars  to  a  clangor  of  hysterical 
expostulation.  In  a  trice  the  "  L  "  extension  was 
roaring  overhead;  and  a  little  later  the  ferry  gates 
were  yawning  before  them.  Again  Maitland  con 
sulted  his  watch,  commenting  briefly :  "  In  time." 

Yet  he  reckoned  without  the  ferry,  one  of  whose 
employees  deliberately  and  implacably  swung  to  the 
gates  in  the  very  face  of  the  astonished  cab-horse, 
which  promptly  rose  upon  its  hind  legs  and  pawed 
the  air  with  gestures  of  pardonable  exasperation.  To 
no  avail,  however;  the  gates  remained  closed,  the 
cabby  (with  language)  reined  his  steed  back  a  yard 
or  two,  and  Maitland,  lighting  a  cigarette,  composed 
himself  to  simulate  patience. 

Followed  a  wait  of  ten  minutes  or  so,  in  which  a 
34 


POST-PKANDIAL 

number  of  vehicles  joined  company  with  the  cab;  the 
passenger  was  vaguely  aware  of  the  jarring  purr 
of  a  motor-car,  like  that  of  some  huge  cat,  in  the  im 
mediate  rear.  A  circumstance  which  he  had  occasion 
to  recall  ere  long. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  gates  were  again  opened. 
The  bridge  cleared  of  incoming  traffic.  As  the  cabby 
drove  aboard  the  boat,  with  nice  consideration  select 
ing  the  choicest  stand  of  all,  well  out  upon  the  for 
ward  deck,  a  motor-car  slid  in,  humming,  on  the  right 
of  the  hansom. 

Maitland  sat  forward,  resting  his  forearms  on  the 
apron,  and  jerked  his  cigarette  out  over  the  gates ; 
the  glowing  stub  described  a  fiery  arc  and  took  the 
water  with  a  hiss.  Warm  whiffs  of  the  river's  sweet 
and  salty  breath  fanned  his  face  gratefully,  and  he 
became  aware  that  there  was  a  moon.  His  gaze 
roving  at  will,  he  nodded  an  even-tempered  appro 
bation  of  the  night's  splendor:  in  the  city  a  thing 
unsuspected. 

Never,  he  thought,  had  ne  known  moonlight  so 
pure,  so  silvery  and  strong.  Shadows  of  gates  and 

35 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

posts  lay  upon  the  forward  deck  like  stencils  of  lamp 
black  upon  white  marble.  Beyond  the  boat's  bluntly 
rounded  nose  the  East  River  stretched  its  restless, 
dark  reaches,  glossy  black,  woven  with  gorgeous 
ribbons  of  reflected  light  streaming  from  pier-head 
lamps  on  the  further  shore.  Overhead,  the  sky,  a 
pallid  and  luminous  blue  around  the  low-swung  moon, 
was  shaded  to  profound  depths  of  bluish-black 
toward  the  horizon.  Above  Brooklyn  rested  a 
tenuous  haze.  A  revenue  cutter,  a  slim,  pale  shape, 
cut  across  the  bows  like  a  hunted  ghost.  Farther 
out  a  homeward-bound  excursion  steamer,  tier  upon 
tier  of  glittering  lights,  drifted  slowly  toward  its 
pier  beneath  the  new  bridge,  the  blare  of  its  band, 
swelling  and  dying  upon  the  night  breeze,  mercifully 
tempered  by  distance. 

Presently  Maitland's  attention  was  distracted  and 
drawn,  by  the  abrupt  cessation  of  its  motor's  pulsing, 
to  the  automobile  on  his  right.  He  lifted  his  chin 
sharply,  narrowing  his  eyes,  whistled  low ;  and  there 
after  had  eyes  for  nothing  else. 

The  car,  he  saw  with  the  experienced  eye  of  a 


POST-PRANDIAL 

connoisseur,  was  a  recent  model  of  one  of  the  most 
expensive  and  popular  foreign  makes:  built  on  lines 
that  promised  a  deal  in  the  way  of  speed,  and  fur 
nished  with  engines  that  were  pregnant  with  multi 
plied  horse-power:  all  in  all  not  the  style  of  car  one 
would  expect  to  find  controlled  by  a  solitary  woman, 
especially  after  ten  of  a  summer's  night. 

Nevertheless  the  lone  occupant  of  this  car  was  a 
woman.  And  there  was  that  in  her  bearing,  an  inde 
finable  something, — whether  it  lay  in  the  carriage  of 
her  head,  which  impressed  one  as  both  spirited  and 
independent,  or  in  an  equally  certain  but  less  tangible 
air  of  self-confidence  and  reliance, — to  set  Mad 
Maitland's  pulses  drumming  with  excitement.  For, 
unless  indeed  he  labored  gravely  under  a  misappre 
hension,  he  was  observing  her  for  the  second  time 
within  the  past  few  hours. 

Could  he  be  mistaken,  or  was  this  in  truth  the  same 
woman  who  had  (as  he  believed)  made  herself  free 
of  his  rooms  that  evening? 

In  confirmation  of  such  suspicion  he  remarked  her 
costume,  which  was  altogether  worked  out  in  soft 

37 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

shades  of  grey.  Grey  was  the  misty  veil,  drawn  in 
and  daintily  knotted  beneath  her  chin,  which  lent  her 
head  and  face  such  thorough  protection  against  pry 
ing  glances;  of  grey  suede  were  the  light  gauntlets 
that  hid  all  save  the  slenderness  of  her  small  hands ; 
and  the  wrap  that,  cut  upon  full  and  flowing  lines, 
cloaked  her  figure  beyond  suggestion,  was  grey.  Yet 
even  its  ample  drapery  could  not  dissemble  the  fact 
that  she  was  quite  small,  girlishly  slight,  like  the 
woman  in  the  doorway ;  nor  did  aught  temper  her 
impersonal  and  detached  composure,  which  had 
also  been  an  attribute  of  the  woman  in  the  door 
way.  And,  again,  she  was  alone,  unchaperoned, 
unprotected.  .  .  . 

Yes?  Or  no?  And,  if  yes:  what  to  do?  Was 
he  to  alight  and  accost  her,  accuse  her  of  forcing 
an  entrance  to  his  rooms  for  the  sole  purpose  (as 
far  as  ascertainable)  of  presenting  him  with  the 
outline  of  her  hand  in  the  dust  of  his  desk's  top? 
.  .  .  Oh,  hardly!  It  was  all  very  well  to  be 
daringly  eccentric  and  careless  of  the  world's  cen 
sure;  but  one  scarcely  cared  to  lay  one's  self  open 

38 


POST-PRANDIAL 

cither  to  an  unknown  girl's  derision  or  to  a  sound 
pummeling  at  the  hands  of  fellow  passengers  en 
raged  by  the  insult  offered  to  an  unescorted 
woman.  .  . 

The  young  man  was  still  pondering  ways  and 
means  when  a  dull  bump  apprised  him  that  the  ferry 
boat  was  entering  the  Long  Island  City  slip.  "  The 
devil !  "  he  exclaimed  in  mingled  disgust  and  dismay, 
realizing  that  his  distraction  had  been  so  thorough 
as  to  permit  the  voyage  to  take  place  almost  with 
out  his  realizing  it.  So  that  now — worse  luck! — it 
was  too  late  to  take  any  one  of  the  hundred  fantastic 
steps  he  had  contemplated  half  seriously.  In  an 
other  two  minutes  his  charming  mystery,  so  bewitch- 
ingly  incarnated,  would  have  slipped  out  of  his  life, 
finally  and  beyond  recall.  And  he  could  do  naught 
to  hinder  such  a  finale  to  the  adventure. 

Sulkily  he  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable,  wait 
ing  and  watching,  while  the  boat  slid  and  blundered 
clumsily,  paddle-wheels  churning  the  filthy  waters 
over  side,  to  the  floating  bridge;  while  the  winches 
rattled,  and  the  woman,  sitting  up  briskly  in  the 

39 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

driver's  seat  of  the  motor-car,  bent  forward  and  ad 
vanced  the  spark;  while  the  chain  fell  clanking  and 
the  car  shot  out,  over  the  bridge,  through  the  gates, 
and  away,  at  a  very  considerable,  even  if  lawful,  rate 
of  speed. 

Whereupon,  writing  Finis  to  the  final  chapter  of 
Romance,  voting  the  world  a  dull  place  and  life  a 
treadmill,  anathematizing  in  no  uncertain  terms  his 
lack  of  resource  and  address,  Maitland  paid  off  his 
cabby,  alighted,  and  to  that  worthy's  boundless  won 
der,  walked  into  the  waiting-room  of  the  railway 
terminus  without  deviating  a  hair's-breadth  from  the 
straight  and  circumscribed  path  of  the  sober  in  mind 
and  body. 

The  ten-twenty  had  departed  by  a  bare  two  min 
utes.  The  next  and  last  train  for  Greenfields  was  to 
leave  at  ten-fifty-nine.  Maitland  with  assumed  non 
chalance  composed  himself  upon  a  bench  in  the  wait 
ing-room  to  endure  the  thirty-seven  minute  interval. 
Five  minutes  later  an  able-bodied  washerwoman  with 
six  children  in  quarter  sizes  descended  upon  the  same 
bench;  and  the  young  man  in  desperation  allowed 

40 


JPOST-PRANDIAL 

himself  to  be  dispossessed.  The  news-stand  next 
attracting  him,  he  garnered  a  fugitive  amusement 
and  two  dozen  copper  cents  by  the  simple  process 
of  purchasing  six  "  night  extras,"  which  he  did  not 
want,  and  paying  for  each  with  a  five-cent  piece. 
Comprehending,  at  length,  that  he  had  irritated  the 
news-dealer,  he  meandered  off,  jingling  his  copper 
fortune  in  one  hand,  lugging  his  newspapers  in  the 
other,  and  made  a  determined  onslaught  upon  a  slot 
machine.  The  latter  having  reluctantly  disgorged 
twenty-four  assorted  samples  of  chewing-gum  and 
stale  sweetmeats,  Maitland  returned  to  the  washer 
woman,  and  sowed  dissension  in  her  brood  by  present 
ing  the  treasure-horde  to  the  eldest  girl  with  instruc 
tions  to  share  it  with  her  brothers  and  sisters. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  what  folly  might  next 
have  been  recorded  against  him  had  not,  at  that  mo 
ment,  a  ferocious  and  inarticulate  howl  from  the 
train-starter  announced  the  fact  that  the  ten-fifty- 
nine  was  in  waiting. 

Boarding  the  train  in  a  thankful  spirit,  Mait 
land  settled  himself  as  comfortably  as  he  might  in  the 

41 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

smoker  and  endeavored  to  find  surcease  of  ennui  in 
his  collection  of  extras.  In  vain :  even  a  two-column 
portrait  of  Mr.  Dan  Anisty,  cracksman,  accom 
panied  by  a  vivacious  catalogue  of  that  notoriety's 
achievements  in  the  field  of  polite  burglary,  hardly 
stirred  his  interest.  An  elusive  resemblance  which 
he  traced  in  the  features  of  Mr.  Anisty,  as  presented 
by  the  Sketch-Artist-on-the-Spot,  to  some  one  whom 
he,  Maitland,  had  known  in  the  dark  backwards  and 
abysm  of  time,  merely  drew  from  him  the  comment: 
"  Homely  brute !  "  And  he  laid  the  papers  aside, 
cradling  his  chin  in  the  palm  of  one  hand  and  staring 
for  a  weary  while  out  of  the  car  window  at  a  reeling 
and  moonsmitten  landscape.  He  yawned  exhaus 
tively,  his  thoughts  astray  between  a  girl  garbed  all 
in  grey,  Bannerman's  earnest  and  thoughtful  face, 
and  the  pernicious  activities  of  Mr.  Daniel  Anisty, 
at  whose  door  Maitland  laid  the  responsibility  for 
this  most  fatiguing  errand. 

The  brakeman's  wolf-like  yelp — "  Greenfields !  " — 
was  ringing  in  his  ears  when  he  awoke  and  stumbled 
down  aisle  and  car-steps  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

4* 


POSTPRANDIAL 

The  train,  whisking  round  a  curve  cloaked  by  a  belt 
of  somber  pines,  left  him  quite  alone  in  the  world, 
cast  ruthlessly  upon  his  own  resources. 

An  hour  had  elapsed;  it  was  now  midnight;  the 
moon  rode  high,  a  cold  white  disk  against  a  back 
ground  of  sapphire  velvet,  its  pellucid  rays  reveal 
ing  with  disheartening  distinctness  the  inanimate 
and  lightless  roadside  hamlet  called  Greenfields ;  its 
general  store  and  postoffice,  its  sot-disant  hotel, 
its  straggling  line  of  dilapidated  habitations,  all 
wrapped  in  silence  profound  and  impenetrable.  Not 
even  a  dog  howled;  not  a  belated  villager  was  in 
sight ;  and  it  was  a  moral  certainty  that  the  local 
livery  service  had  closed  down  for  the  night. 

Nevertheless,  Maitland,  with  a  desperation  bred  of 
the  prospective  five-mile  tramp,  spent  some  ten  val 
uable  minutes  hammering  upon  the  door  of  the  house 
infested  by  the  proprietor  of  the  livery  stable.  He 
succeeded  only  in  waking  the  dog,  and  inasmuch  as 
he  was  not  on  friendly  terms  with  that  animal, 
presently  withdrew  at  discretion  and  set  his  face 
northwards  upon  the  open  road. 

tt 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

It  stretched  before  him  invitingly  enough,  a  ribbon 
winding  silver-white  between  dark  patches  of  pine 
and  scrub-oak  or  fields  lush  with  rustling  corn  and 
wheat.  And,  having  overcome  his  primary  disgust, 
as  the  blood  began  to  circulate  more  briskly  in  his 
veins,  Maitland  became  aware  that  he  was  actually 
enjoying  the  enforced  exercise.  It  could  have  been 
hardly  otherwise,  with  a  night  so  sweet,  with  airs  so 
bland  and  fragrant  of  the  woods  and  fresh-turned 
earth,  with  so  clear  a  light  to  show  him  his  way. 

He  stepped  out  briskly  at  first,  swinging  his  stick 
and  watching  his  shadow,  a  squat,  incredibly  agitated 
silhouette  in  the  golden  dust.  But  gradually  and 
insensibly  the  peaceful  influences  of  that  still  and 
lovely  hour  tempered  his  heart's  impatience;  and  he 
found  himself  walking  at  a  pace  more  leisurely. 
After  all,  there  was  no  hurry ;  he  was  unwearied,  and 
Maitland  Manor  lay  less  than  five  miles  distant. 

Thirty  minutes  passed ;  he  had  not  covered  a  third 
of  the  way,  yet  remained  content.  By  well-remem 
bered  landmarks,  he  knew  he  must  be  nearing  the  lit' 
tie  stream  called,  by  courtesy,  Myannis  River;  and, 

44 


POST-PRANDIAL 

in  due  course,  he  stepped  out  upon  the  long  wooden 
structure  that  spans  that  water.  He  was  close  upon 
the  farther  end  when — upon  a  hapchance  impulse — 
he  glanced  over  the  nearest  guard-rail,  down  at  the 
bed  of  the  creek.  And  stopped  incontinently, 
gaping. 

Stationary  in  the  middle  of  the  depression,  hub- 
deep  in  the  shallow  waters,  was  a  motor-car ;  ana 
it,  beyond  dispute,  was  identical  with  that  which  had 
occupied  his  thoughts  on  the  ferry-boat.  Less  won 
derful,  perhaps,  but  to  him  amazing  enough,  it  was 
to  discover  upon  the  driver's  seat  the  girl  in  grey. 

His  brain  benumbed  beyond  further  capacity  for 
astonishment,  he  accepted  without  demur  this  latest 
and  most  astounding  of  the  chain  of  amazing  coinci 
dences  which  had  thus  far  enlivened  the  night's 
earlier  hours ;  and  stood  rapt  in  silent  contemplation, 
sensible  that  the  girl  had  been  unaware  of  his  ap 
proach,  deadened  as  his  footsteps  must  have  been  by 
the  blanket  of  dust  that  carpeted  both  road  and 
bridge  deep  and  thick. 

On  her  part  she  sat  motionless,  evidently  lost  in 
46 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

reverie,  and  momentarily,  at  least,  unconscious  of  the 
embarrassing  predicament  which  was  hers.  So  com 
plete,  indeed,  seemed  her  abstraction  that  Mait- 
land  caught  himself  questioning  the  reality  of 
her.  .  .  .  And  well  might  she  have  seemed  to 
him  a  pale  little  wraith  of  the  night,  the  shimmer  of 
grey  that  she  made  against  the  shimmer  of  light  on 
the  water, — a  shape  almost  transparent,  slight,  and 
unsubstantial — seeming  to  contemplate,  and  as  still 
as  any  mouse.  .  .  . 

Looking  more  attentively,  it  became  evident  that 
her  veil  was  now  raised.  This  was  the  first  time  that 
he  had  seen  her  so.  But  her  countenance  remained 
so  deeply  shadowed  by  the  visor  of  a  mannish  motor 
ing-cap  that  the  most  searching  scrutiny  gained  no 
more  than  a  dim  and  scantily  satisfactory  impression 
of  alluring  loveliness. 

Maitland  turned  noiselessly,  rested  elbows  on  the 
rail,  and,  staring,  framed  a  theory  to  account  for 
her  position,  if  not  for  her  patience. 

On  either  hand  the  road,  dividing,  struck  off  at  a 
tangent,  down  the  banks  and  into  the  river-bed.  It 

46 


FOST-fRAttDIAL 

was  credible  to  presume  that  the  girl  had  lost  control 
of  the  machine  temporarily  and  that  it,  taking  the 
bit  between  its  teeth,  had  swung  gaily  down  the  in 
cline  to  its  bath. 

Why  she  lingered  there,  however,  was  less  patent. 
The  water,  as  has  been  indicated,  was  some  inches 
below  the  tonneau ;  it  did  not  seem  reasonable  to  as 
sume  that  it  should  have  interfered  with  either  run 
ning-gear  or  motor.  .  .  ;•" 

At  this  point  in  Maitland's  meditations  the  grey 
girl  appeared  to  have  arrived  at  a  decision.  She 
straightened  up  suddenly,  with  a  little  resolute  nod 
of  her  head,  lifting  one  small  foot  to  her  knee,  and 
fumbled  with  the  laces  of  her  shoe. 

Maitland  grasped  her  intention  to  abandon  the 
machine,  with  her  determination  to  wade!  Clearly 
this  would  seem  to  demonstrate  that  there  had  been 
a  breakdown,  irreparable  so  far  as  frail  feminine 
hands  were  concerned. 

One  shoe  removed,  its  fellow  would  follow,  and 
then.  .  .  .  Out  of  sheer  chivalry,  the  involun 
tary  witness  was  moved  to  earnest  protest. 

4,7 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Don't!  "  he  cried  hastily.    "  I  say,  don't  wade !  " 

Her  superb  composure  claimed  his  admiration. 
Absolutely  ignorant  though  she  had  been  of  his  prox 
imity,  the  voice  from  out  of  the  skies  evidently 
alarmed  her  not  at  all.  Still  bending  over  the  lifted 
foot,  she  turned  her  head  slowly  and  looked  up ;  and 
"Oh!"  said  a  small  voice  tinged  with  relief.  And 
coolly  knotting  the  laces  again,  she  sat  up.  "  I 
didn't  hear  you,  you  know." 

"  Nor  I  see  you,"  Maitland  supplemented  unblush- 
ingly,  "  until  a  moment  ago.  I — er — can  I  be  of 
assistance?  " 

"  Can't  you?  " 

"  Idiot ! "  said  Maitland  severely,  both  to  and  of 
himself.  Aloud :  "  I  think  I  can." 

"  I  hope  so," — doubtfully.  "  It's  very  unfortu 
nate.  I  ...  was  running  rather  fast,  I  sup 
pose,  and  didn't  see  the  slope  until  too  late.  Now," 
opening  her  hands  in  a  gesture  ingenuously  charm 
ing  with  its  suggestion  of  helplessness  and  depend 
ence,  "  I  don't  know  what  can  be  the  matter  with  the 
machine." 


POST-PRANDIAL 

"  I'm  coming  down,"  announced  Maitland  briefly. 
"  Wait." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall." 

She  laughed,  and  Maitland  could  have  blushed  for 
his  inanity;  happily  he  had  action  to  cloak  his  em 
barrassment.  In  a  twinkling  he  was  at  the  water's 
edge,  pausing  there  to  listen,  with  admirable  docility, 
to  her  plaintive  objection:  "But  you'll  get  wet 
and — and  ruin  your  things.  I  can't  ask  that  of 
you." 

He  chuckled,  by  way  of  reply,  slapping  gallantly 
into  the  shallows  and  courageously  wading  out  to  the 
side  of  the  car.  Whereupon  he  was  advised  in  tones 
of  fluttered  indignation: 

"  You  simply  wouldn't  listen  to  me!  And  I  "warned 
you !  Now  you're  soaking  wet  and  will  certainly 
catch  your  death  of  cold,  and — and  what  can  7  do? 
Truly,  I  am  sorry.  .  .  ." 

Here  the  young  man  lost  track  of  her  remark. 
He  was  looking  up  into  the  shadow  of  the  motoring- 
cap,  discovering  things;  for  the  shadow  was  set  at 
naught  by  the  moon  luster  that,  reflected  from  the 

49 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

surface  of  the  stream,  invested  with  a  gentle  and 
glamorous  radiance  the  face  that  bent  above  him. 
And  he  caught  at  his  breath  sharply,  direst  fears 
confirmed:  she  was  pretty  indeed — perilously  pretty. 
The  firm,  resolute  chin,  the  sensitive,  sweet  line  of 
scarlet  lips,  the  straight  little  nose,  the  brows  del 
icately  arched,  the  large,  alert,  tawny  eyes  with  the 
dangerous  sweet  shadows  beneath,  the  glint  as  of  raw 
copper  where  her  hair  caught  the  light — Maitland 
appreciated  them  all  far  too  well ;  and  clutched 
nervously  the  rail  of  the  seat,  trying  to  steady  him 
self,  to  re-collect  his  routed  wits  and  consider  sensi 
bly  that  it  all  was  due  to  the  magic  of  the  moon, 
belike;  the  witchery  of  this  apparition  that  looked 
down  into  his  eyes  so  gravely. 

"  Of  course,"  he  mumbled,  "  it's  too  beautiful  to 
endure.  Of  course  it  will  all  fade,  vanish  utterly  in 
the  cold  light  of  day.  .  .  ." 

Above  him,  perplexed  brows  gathered  ominously. 
"I  beg  pardon?" 

"  I — er — yes,"  he  stammered  at  random. 

"You— er— what?" 

50 


POST-PRANDIAL 

Positively,  she  was  laughing  at  him !  He,  Mait- 
land  the  exquisite,  Mad  Maitland  the  imperturba 
ble,  was  being  laughed  at  by  a  mere  child,  a  girl 
scarcely  out  of  her  teens.  He  glanced  upward, 
caught  her  eye  a-gleam  with  merriment,  and  looked 
away  with  much  vain  dignity. 

"  I  was  saying,"  he  manufactured,  "  that  I  did 
not  mind  the  wetting  in  the  least.  I'm  happy  to  be 
of  service." 

"  You  weren't  saying  anything  of  the  sort,"  she 
contradicted  calmly.  "  However  ."  She 

paused  significantly. 

Maitland  experienced  an  instantaneous  sensation 
as  of  furtive  guilt,  decidedly  the  reverse  of  comforta 
ble.  He  shuffled  uneasily.  There  was  a  brief  silence, 
on  her  part  expectant,  on  his,  blank.  His  mental  at 
titude  remained  hopeless:  for  some  mysterious  rea 
son  his  nonchalance  had  deserted  him  in  the  hour  of 
his  supremest  need;  not  in  all  his  experience  did  he 
remember  anything  like  this — as  awkward. 

The  river  purled  indifferently  about  his  calves ;  a 
vagrant  breeze  disturbed  the  tree-tops  and  died  of 

51 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

sheer  lassitude;  Time  plodded  on  with  measured 
stride.  Then,  abruptly,  full-winged  inspiration  was 
born  out  of  the  chaos  of  his  mind.  Listening  in 
tently,  he  glanced  with  covert  suspicion  at  the  bridge : 
it  proved  untenanted,  inoffensive  of  mien;  nor  arose 
there  any  sound  of  hoof  or  wheel  upon  the  highway. 
Again  he  looked  up  at  the  girl;  and  found  her  in 
thoughtful  mood,  frowning,  regarding  him  steadily 
beneath  level  brows. 

He  assumed  a  disarming  levity  of  demeanor, 
smiling  winningly.  "  There's  only  one  way,"  he  sug 
gested — not  too  archly — and  extended  his  arms. 

"  Indeed?  "  She  considered  him  with  pardonable 
dubiety. 

Instantly  his  purpose  became  as  adamant. 

"  I  must  carry  you.     It's  the  only  way." 

"  Oh,  indeed  no !  I — couldn't  impose  upon  you. 
I'm — very  heavy,  you  know " 

"  Never  mind,"  firmly  insistent.  "  You  can't  stay 
here  all  night,  of  course." 

"But  are  you  sure?"   (She  was  yielding!)     "I 

don't  like  to " 

52 


POST-PRANDIAL 

He  shook  his  head,  careful  to  restrain  the  twitch 
ing  corners  of  his  lips. 

"  It  will  take  but  a  moment,"  he  urged  gravely. 
"  And  I'll  be  quite  careful." 

"  Well "     She  perceived  that,  if  not  right,  he 

was  stubborn ;  and  with  a  final  small  gesture  of  dep 
recation,  weakly  surrendered.  "  I'm  sorry  to  be 
such  a  nuisance,"  she  murmured,  rising  and  gather 
ing  skirts  about  her. 

Maitland  stoutly  denied  the  hideous  insinuation : 
"  I  am  only  too  glad " 

She  balanced  herself  lightly  upon  the  step.  He 
moved  nearer  and  assured  himself  of  a  firm  foothold 
on  the  pebbly  river-bed.  She  sank  gracefully  into 
his  arms,  proving  a  considerable  burden — weightier, 
in  fact,  than  he  had  anticipated.  He  was  somewhat 
staggered;  it  seemed  that  he  embraced  countless 
yards  of  ruffles  and  things  ballasted  with  (at  a  shrewd 
guess)  lead.  He  swayed. 

Then,  recovering  his  equilibrium,  incautiously 
glanced  into  her  eyes.  And  lost  it  again,  com 
pletely. 

53 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  I  was  mistaken,"  he  told  himself ;  "  daylight  will 
but  enhance.  .  .  ." 

She  held  herself  considerately  still,  perhaps  won 
dering  why  he  made  no  move.  Perhaps  otherwise; 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  she  may  have  suspected 
— being  a  woman. 

At  length,  "  Is  there  anything  I  can  do,"  she  in 
quired  meekly,  "  to  make  it  easier  for  you?  " 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  replied,  attitude  apologetic, 
"  that  I  must  ask  you  to  put  your  arm  around  my 
ne — my  shoulders.  It  would  be  more  natural." 

"  Oh." 

The  monosyllable  was  heavy  with  meaning — with 
any  one  of  a  dozen  meanings,  in  truth.  Mait- 
land  debated  the  most  obvious.  Did  she  conceive  he 
had  insinuated  that  it  was  his  habit  to  ferry  armfuls 
of  attractive  femininity  over  rocky  fords  by  the  light 
of  a  midnight  moon? 

No  matter.  While  he  thought  it  out,  she  was  con 
senting.  Presently  a  slender  arm  was  passed  round 
his  neck.  Having  awaited  only  that,  he  began  to 
wade  cautiously  shorewards.  The  distance  lessened 

54 


POST-PRANDIAL 

perceptibly,  but  he  contemplated  the  decreasing 
interval  without  joy,  for  all  that  she  was  of  an 
appreciable  weight.  For  all  burdens  there  are  com 
pensations. 

Unconsciously,  inevitably,  her  head  sank  toward 
his  shoulder;  he  was  aware  of  her  breath,  fragrant 
and  warm,  upon  his  cheek.  .  .*•„»[  He  stopped 
abruptly,  cold  chills  running  up  and  down  his  back; 
he  gritted  his  teeth;  he  shuddered  perceptibly. 

"  What  is  the  matter? "  she  demanded,  deeply 
concerned,  but  at  pains  not  to  stir. 

Maitland  made  a  strange  noise  with  his  tongue  be 
hind  clenched  teeth.  "  Urrrrgh,"  he  said  dis 
tinctly. 

She  lifted  her  head,  startled;  relief  followed,  in 
tense  and  instantaneous. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  muttered  humbly,  face  aflame, 
"but  you  .  .  .  tickled." 

"  I'm — so — sorry!  "  she  gasped,  violently  agi 
tated.  And  laughed  a  low,  almost  a  silent,  little 
laugh,  as  with  deft  fingers  she  tucked  away  the  errant 
lock  of  hair. 

55 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Ass ! "  Maitland  told  himself  fiercely,  striding 
forward. 

In  another  moment  they  were  on  dry  land.  The 
girl  slipped  from  his  arms  and  faced  him,  eyes 
dancing,  cheeks  crimson,  lips  a  tense,  quivering,  scar 
let  line.  He  met  this  with  a  rueful  smile. 

"  But — thank  you — but,"  she  gasped  explosively, 
"  it  was  so  funny  !  " 

Wounded  dignity  melted  before  her  laughter.  For 
a  time,  there  in  the  moonlight,  under  the  scornful 
regard  of  the  disabled  motor-car's  twin  headlights, 
these  two  rocked  and  shrieked,  while  the  silent  night 
flung  back  disdainful  echoes  of  their  mad  laughter. 

Perhaps  the  insane  incongruity  of  their  perform 
ance  first  became  apparent  to  the  girl;  she,  at  all 
events,  was  the  first  to  control  herself.  Maitland 
subsided,  rumbling,  while  she  dabbed  at  her  eyes  with 
a  wisp  of  lace  and  linen. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  faintly,  at  length ;  "  I 
didn't  mean  to " 

"  How  could  you  help  it  ?  Who'd  expect  a  hulk 
ing  brute  like  myself  to  be  ticklish?  " 

56 


POST-PRANDIAL 

"  You  are  awfully  good,"  she  countered  more 
calmly. 

"  Don't  say  that.  I'm  a  clumsy  lout.  But " 

He  held  hei  gaze  inquiringly.  "  But  may  I 
ask " 

"  Oh,  of  course — certainly :  I  am — was — bound  for 
Greenpoint-on-the-Sound " 

"  Ten  miles !  "  he  interrupted. 

The  corners  of  her  red  lips  drooped:  her  brows 
puckered  with  dismay.  Instinctively  she  glanced 
toward  the  waterbound  car. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  she  cried.  "Ten  miles! 
.  .  .  I  could  never  walk  it,  never  in  the  world! 
You  see,  I  went  to  town  to-day  to  do  a  little  shop 
ping.  As  we  were  coming  home  the  chauffeur  was 
arrested  for  careless  driving.  He  had  bumped  a  de 
livery  wagon  over — it  wasn't  really  his  fault.  I  tele 
phoned  home  for  somebody  to  bail  him  out,  and  my 
father  said  he  would  come  in.  Then  I  dined, 
returned  to  the  police-station,  and  waited.  Nobody 
came.  I  couldn't  stay  there  all  night.  I  'phoned 
to  everybody  I  knew,  until  my  money  gave  out;  no 

57 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

one  was  in  town.     At  last,  in  desperation,  I  started 
home  alone." 

Maitland  nodded  his  comprehension.  "  Your 
father ?  "  he  hinted  delicately. 

"  Judge  Wentworth,"  she  explained  hastily. 
"  We've  taken  the  Grover  place  at  Greenpoint  for 
the  season." 

"  I  see," — thoughtfully.  And  this  was  the  girl 
who  he  had  believed  had  been  in  his  rooms  that 
evening,  in  his  absence!  Oh,  clearly,  that  was  im 
possible.  Her  tone  rang  with  truth.  .  .  . 

She  interrupted  his  train  of  thought  with  a  cry 
of  despair.  "  What  will  they  think !  " 

"  I  dare  say,"  he  ventured  hopefully,  "  I  could 
hire  a  team  at  some  farm-house " 

"  But  the  delay !     It's  so  late  already !  " 

Undeniably  late:  one  o'clock  at  the  earliest.  A 
thought  longer  Maitland  hung  in  lack  of  purpose, 
then  without  a  word  of  explanation  turned  and  again 
began  to  wade  out. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ? "  she  cried,  sur 
prised. 

58 


POST-PR  AN  DIAL 

"  See  what's  the  trouble,"  he  called  back.  "  I 
know  a  bit  about  motors.  Perhaps " 

"  Then— but  why " 

She  stopped;  and  Maitland  forbore  to  encourage 
her  to  round  out  her  question.  It  was  no  difficult 
matter  to  supply  the  missing  words.  Why  had  he 
not  thought  of  investigating  the  motor  before  insist 
ing  that  he  must  carry  her  ashore? 

The  humiliating  conviction  forced  itself  upon  him 
that  he  was  not  figuring  to  great  advantage  in  this 
adventure.  Distinctly  a  humiliating  sensation  to  one 
who  ordinarily  was  by  way  of  having  a  fine  conceit 
of  himself.  It  requires  a  certain  amount  of  egotism 
to  enable  one  to  play  the  exquisite  to  one's  personal 
satisfaction;  Maitland  had  enjoyed  the  possession  of 
that  certain  amount ;  theretofore  his  approval  of  self 
had  been  passably  entire.  Now — he  could  not  deny 
— the  boor  had  shown  up  through  the  polish  of  the 
beau. 

Intolerable  thought!  "Cad!"  exclaimed  Mait 
land  bitterly.  This  all  was  due  to  hasty  jumping  at 
conclusions :  if  he  had  not  chosen  to  believe  a  young 

59 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

and  charming  girl  identical  with  an — an  adventuress, 
this  thing  had  not  happened  and  he  had  still  retained 
his  own  good-will.  For  one  little  moment  he  despised 
himself  heartily — one  little  moment  of  clear  insight 
into  self  was  his.  And  forthwith  he  began  to  medi 
tate  apologies,  formulating  phrases  designed  to 
prove  adequate  without  sounding  exaggerated,  and 
insincere. 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  the  car,  and — 
through  sheer  blundering  luck — at  once  stumbled 
upon  the  seat  of  trouble :  a  clogged  valve  in  the  car 
bureter.  No  serious  matter:  with  the  assistance  of 
a  repair  kit  more  than  commonly  complete,  he  had 
the  valve  clear  in  a  jiffy. 

News  of  this  triumph  he  shouted  to  the  girl,  re 
ceiving  in  reply  an  "  Oh,  thank  you ! "  so  fervently 
grateful  that  he  felt  more  guilty  than  ever. 

Ruminating  unhappily  on  the  cud  of  contemplated 
abasement,  he  waded  round  the  car,  satisfying  him 
self  that  there  was  nothing  else  out  of  gear;  and 
apprehensively  cranked  up.  Whereupon  the  motor 
began  to  hum  contentedly:  all  was  well.  Flushed 

60 


POST-PRANDIAL 

with  this  success,  Maitland  climbed  aboard  and 
opened  the  throttle  a  trifle.  The  car  moved.  And 
then,  with  a  swish,  a  gurgle,  and  a  watery  whoosh! 
it  surged  forward,  up,  out  of  the  river,  gallantly  up 
the  slope. 

At  the  top  the  amateur  chauffeur  shut  down  the 
throttle  and  jumped  out,  turning  to  face  the  girl. 
She  was  by  the  step  almost  before  he  could  offer  a 
hand  to  help  her  in,  and  as  she  paused  to  render 
him  his  due  meed  of  thanks,  it  became  evident  that 
she  harbored  little  if  any  resentment;  eyes  shining, 
face  aglow  with  gratitude,  she  dropped  him  a  droll 
but  graceful  little  courtesy. 

"  You  are  too  good !  "  she  declared  with  spirit. 
"  How  can  I  thank  you?  " 

"  You  might,"  he  suggested,  looking  down  into 
her  face  from  his  superior  height,  "  give  me  a  bit 
of  a  lift — just  a  couple  of  miles  up  the  road. 
Though,"  he  supplemented  eagerly,  "  if  you'd  really 
prefer,  I  should  be  only  too  happy  to  drive  the  car 
home  for  you?  " 

"  Two  miles,  did  you  say?  " 

61 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

He  fancied  something  odd  in  her  tone;  besides, 
the  question  was  superfluous.  His  eyes  informed 
with  puzzlement,  he  replied :  "  Why,  yes — that 
much,  more  or  less.  I  live " 

"  Of  course,"  she  put  in  quickly,  "  I'll  give  you  the 
lift — only  too  glad.  But  as  for  your  taking  me 
home  at  this  hour,  I  can't  hear  of  that." 

«  But " 

"  Besides,  what  would  people  say  ?  "  she  countered 
obstinately.  "Oh,  no,"  she  decided;  and  he  felt 
that  from  this  decision  there  would  be  no  appeal; 
"  I  couldn't  think  of  interfering  with  your  .  .  . 
arrangements." 

Her  eyes  held  his  for  a  single  instant,  instinct  with 
mischief,  gleaming  with  bewildering  light  from  out 
a  face  schooled  to  gravity.  Maitland  experienced  a 
sensation  of  having  grasped  after  and  missed  a 
subtlety  of  allusion ;  his  wits,  keen  as  they  were, 
recoiled,  baffled  by  her  finesse.  And  the  more  he 
divined  that  she  was  playing  with  him,  as  an  ex 
perienced  swordsman  might  play  with  an  imperti 
nent  novice,  the  denser  his  confusion  grew. 


POST-PRANDIAL 

"  But  I  have  no  arrangements "  he  stammered. 

"  Don't !  "  she  insisted — as  much  as  to  say  that  he 
was  fabricating  and  she  knew  it !  "  We  must  hurry, 
you  know,  because  .  .  .  There,  I've  dropped 
my  handkerchief!  By  the  tree,  there.  Do  you 
mind ?  " 

"  Of  course  not."  He  set  off  swiftly  toward  the 
point  indicated,  but  on  reaching  it  cast  about  vainly 
for  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  handkerchief.  In 
the  midst  of  which  futile  quest  a  change  of  tempo 
in  the  motor's  impatient  drumming  surprised  him. 

Startled,  he  looked  up.  Too  late:  the  girl  was 
in  the  seat,  the  car  in  motion — already  some  yards 
from  the  point  at  which  he  had  left  it.  Dismayed, 
he  strode  forward,  raising  his  voice  in  perturbed 
expostulation. 

"But— I  say !" 

Over  the  rear  of  the  seat  a  grey  gauntlet  was 
waved  at  him,  as  tantalizing  as  the  mocking  laugh 
that  came  to  his  ears. 

He  paused,  thunderstruck,  appalled  by  this  mon 
strosity  of  ingratitude. 

63 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

The  machine  gathered  impetus,  drawing  swiftly 
away.  Yet  in  the  stillness  the  farewell  of  the  grey 
girl  came  to  him  very  clearly. 

"Good-by!"  with  a  laugh.  "Thank  you  and 
good-by — Handsome  Dan!  " 


m 

**  HANDSOME    DAN  " 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  watching  the 
dust  cloud  that  trailed  the  fast  disappearing  motor 
car,  Mr.  Maitland  cut  a  figure  sufficiently  forlorn 
and  disconsolate  to  have  distilled  pity  from  the  least 
sympathetic  heart. 

His  hands  were  thrust  stiffly  at  full  arm's  length 
into  his  trousers  pockets:  a  rumpled  silk  hat  was  set 
awry  on  the  back  of  his  head;  his  shirt  bosom  was 
sadly  crumpled ;  above  the  knees,  to  a  casual  glance, 
he  presented  the  appearance  of  a  man  carefully  at 
tired  in  evening  dress;  below,  his  legs  were  sodden 
and  muddied,  his  shoes  of  patent-leather,  twin  wrecks. 
Alas  for  jauntiness  and  elegance,  alack  for  ease  and 
aplomb ! 

"  Tricked,"  observed  Maitland  casually,  and  pro 
truded  his  lower  lip,  thus  adding  to  the  length  of  a 
countenance  naturally  long.  "  Outwitted  by  a  chit 
of  a  girl !  Dammit !  " 

65 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

But  this  was  crude  melodrama.  Realizing  which, 
he  strove  to  smile:  a  sorry  failure. 

" '  Handsome  Dan,'  "  quoted  he ;  and  cocking  his 
head  to  one  side  eyed  the  road  inquiringly.  "  Where 
in  thunder  d'you  suppose  she  got  hold  of  that 
name?  " 

Bestowed  upon  him  in  callow  college  days,  it  had 
stuck  burr-like  for  many  a  weary  year.  Of  late, 
however,  its  use  had  lapsed  among  his  acquaintances ; 
he  had  begun  to  congratulate  himself  upon  having 
lived  it  down.  And  now  it  was  resurrected,  flung  at 
him  in  sincerest  mockery  by  a  woman  whom,  to  his 
knowledge,  he  had  never  before  laid  eyes  upon. 
Odious  appellation,  hateful  invention  of  an  ingenious 
enemy ! 

"  '  Handsome  Dan  ! '  She  must  have  known  me  all 
the  time — all  the  time  I  was  making  an  exhibition  of 
myself.  .  .  .  '  Wentworth '  ?  I  know  no  one 
of  that  name.  Who  the  dickens  can  she  be?  " 

If  it  had  not  been  contrary  to  his  code  of  ethics, 
he  would  gladly  have  raved,  gnashed  his  teeth,  footed 
the  dance  of  rage  with  his  shadow.  Indeed,  his  re- 

66 


"  ilANDSOMK    DAN" 

straint  was  admirable,  the  circumstances  considered. 
He  did  nothing  whatever  but  stand  still  for  a  matter 
of  five  minutes,  vainly  racking  his  memory  for  a  clue 
to  the  identity  of  "  Miss  Wentworth." 

At  length  he  gave  it  up  in  despair  and  abstract 
edly  felt  for  his  watch-fob.  Which  wasn't  there. 
Neither,  investigation  developed,  was  the  watch.  At 
which  crowning  stroke  of  misfortune, — the  timepiece 
must  have  slipped  from  his  pocket  into  the  water 
while  he  was  tinkering  with  that  infamous  carbureter, 
— Maitland  turned  eloquently  red  in  the  face. 

"The  price,"  he  meditated  aloud,  with  an  effort  to 
resume  his  pose,  "is  a  high  one  to  pay  for  a  wave 
of  a  grey  glove  and  the  echo  of  a  pretty  laugh." 

With  which  final  fling  at  Fortune  he  set  off  again 
for  Maitland  Manor,  trudging  heavily  but  at  a 
round  pace  through  the  dust  that  soon  settled  upon 
the  damp  cloth  of  his  trousers  legs  and  completed 
their  ruination.  But  Maitland  was  beyond  being 
disturbed  by  such  trifles.  A  wounded  vanity  en 
gaged  his  solicitude  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
interests. 

67 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

At  the  end  of  forty-five  minutes  he  had  covered 
the  remaining  distance  between  Greenfields  station 
and  Maitland  Manor.  For  five  minutes  more  he 
strode  wearily  over  the  side-path  by  the  box  hedge 
which  set  aside  his  ancestral  acres  from  the  public 
highway.  At  length,  with  an  exclamation,  he  paused 
at  the  first  opening  in  the  living  barrier :  a  wide 
entrance  from  which  a  blue-stone  carriage  drive 
wound  away  to  the  house,  invisible  in  the  waning 
light,  situate  in  the  shelter  of  the  grove  of  trees  that 
studded  the  lawn. 

"  Gasoline !  Brrr !  "  said  Maitland,  shuddering 
and  shivering  with  the  combination  of  a  nauseous 
odor  and  the  night's  coolness — the  latter  by  now 
making  itself  as  unpleasantly  prominent  as  the 
former. 

Though  he  hated  the  smell  with  all  his  heart, 
manfully  inconsistent  he  raised  his  head,  sniffing  the 
air  for  further  evidence ;  and  got  his  reward  in  a 
sickening  gust. 

"  Tank  leaked,"  he  commented  with  brevity. 
"  Quart  of  the  stuff  must  have  trickled  out  right 

68 


«  HANDSOME    DAN" 

here.  Ugh!  If  it  goes  on  at  this  rate,  there'll  be 
another  breakdown  before  she  gets  home."  And, 
"  Serve  her  right,  too ! "  he  growled,  vindictive. 

But  for  all  his  indignation  he  acknowledged  a 
sneaking  wish  that  he  might  be  at  hand  again,  in 
such  event,  a  second  time  to  give  gratuitous  service 
to  his  grey  lady. 

Analyzing  this  frame  of  mind  (not  without  sur 
prise  and  some  disdain  of  him  who  weakly  enter 
tained  it)  he  crossed  the  drive  and  struck  in  over  the 
laun,  shaping  his  course  direct  for  the  front  entrance 
of  the  house. 

By  dead  reckoning  the  hour  was  two,  or  something 
later;  and  a  chill  was  stealing  in  upon  the  land, 
wafted  gently  southward  from  Long  Island  Sound. 
All  the  world  beside  himself  seemed  to  slumber, 
breathless,  insensate.  Wraith-like,  grey  shreds  of 
mist  drifted  between  the  serried  boles  of  trees,  or, 
rising,  veiled  the  moon's  wan  and  pallid  face,  that 
now  was  low  upon  the  horizon.  In  silent  rivalry  long 
and  velvet-black  shadows  skulked  across  the  ample 
breadths  of  dew-drenched  grass.  Somewhere  a  bird 

69 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

stirred  on  its  unseen  perch,  chirping  sleepily;  and  in 
the  rapt  silence  the  inconsiderable  interruption  broke 
with  startling  stress. 

In  time, — not  long, — the  house  lifted  into  view: 
a  squat,  rambling  block  of  home-grown  architecture 
with  little  to  recommend  it  save  its  keen  associations 
and  its  comfort.  At  the  edge  of  the  woods  the  lord 
and  master  paused  indefinitely,  with  little  purpose, 
surveying  idly  the  pale,  columned  fa9ade,  and  won 
dering  whether  or  not  his  entrance  at  that  ungodly 
hour  would  rouse  the  staff  of  house  servants.  If  it 
did  not — he  contemplated  with  mild  amusement  the 
prospect  of  their  surprise  when,  morning  come,  they 
should  find  the  owner  in  occupation. 

"  Bannerman  was  right,"  he  conceded ;  "  any " 

The  syllables  died  upon  his  lips ;  his  gaze  became 
fixed;  his  heart  thumped  wildly  for  an  instant,  then 
rested  still;  and  instinctively  he  held  his  breath,  tip 
toeing  to  the  edge  of  the  veranda  the  better  to  com 
mand  a  view  of  the  library  windows. 

These  opened  from  ceiling  to  floor  and  should  by 
rights  have  presented  to  his  vision  a  blank  expanse 

70 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

of  dark  glass.  But,  oddly  enough,  even  while  think 
ing  of  his  lawyer's  warning,  he  had  fancied.  .  .  . 
"  Ah !  "  said  Maitland  softly. 

A  disk  of  white  light,  perhaps  a  foot  or  eighteen 
iiK-hes  in  diameter,  had  flitted  swiftly  across  the  glass 
and  vanished. 

"  Ah,  ah !  The  devil,  the  devil !  "  murmured  the 
young  man  unconsciously. 

The  light  appeared  again,  dancing  athwart  the 
inner  wall  of  the  room-,  and  was  lost  as  abruptly  as 
before.  On  impulse  Maitand  buttoned  his  top-coat 
across  his  chest,  turning  up  the  collar  to  hide  his 
linen,  darted  stealthily  a  yard  or  two  to  one  side,  and 
with  one  noiseless  bound  reached  the  floor  of  the  ve 
randa.  A  breath  later  he  stood  by  the  front  door, 
where,  at  first  glance,  he  discovered  the  means  of  en 
trance  used  by  the  midnight  marauder;  the  doors 
stood  ajar,  a  black  interval  showing  between  them. 

So  that,  then,  was  the  way !  Cautiously  Maitland 
put  a  hand  upon  the  knob  and  pushed. 

A  sharp,  penetrating  squeak  brought  him  to  an 
abrupt  standstill,  heart  hammering  shamefully  again. 

71 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Gathering  himself  to  spring,  if  need  be,  he  crept  back 
toward  the  library  windows,  and  reconnoitering 
cautiously  determined  the  fact  that  the  bolts  had  just 
been  withdrawn  on  the  inside  of  one  window  frame, 
which  was  swinging  wide. 

"  It's  a  wise  crook  that  provides  his  own  quick 
exit,"  considered  Maitland. 

The  sagacious  one  was  not,  apparently,  leaving 
at  that  moment.  On  the  contrary,  having  made  all 
things  ready  for  a  hurried  flight  upon  the  first 
alarm,  the  intruder  turned  back,  as  was  clearly  indi 
cated  by  the  motion  of  the  light  within.  The  clink 
of  steel  touching  steel  became  audible ;  and  Maitland 
nodded.  Bannerman  was  indeed  justified;  at  that 
very  moment  the  safe  was  being  attacked. 

Maitland  returned  noiselessly  to  the  door.  His 
mouth  had  settled  into  a  hard,  unyielding, thin  line; 
and  a  dangerous  light  flickered  in  his  eyes.  Tempo 
rarily  the  idler  had  stepped  aside,  giving  place  to 
the  real  man  that  was  Maitland — the  man  ready  to 
fight  for  his  own,  naked  hands  against  firearms,  if  it 
need  be.  True,  he  had  but  to  step  into  the  gun-room 

72 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

to  find  weapons  in  plenty;  but  these  must  be  then 
loaded  to  be  of  service,  and  precious  moments  wasted 
in  the  process — moments  in  which  the  burglar  might 
gain  access  to  and  make  off  with  his  booty. 

Maitland  had  no  notion  whatever  of  permitting 
anything  of  the  sort  to  occur.  He  counted  upon 
taking  his  enemy  unawares,  difficult  as  he  believed 
such  a  feat  would  be,  in  the  case  of  a  professional 
cracksman. 

Down  the  hallway  he  groped  his  way  to  the  library 
door,  his  fingers  at  length  encountering  its  panels; 
it  was  closed,  doubtless  secured  upon  the  inside;  the 
slightest  movement  of  the  handle  was  calculated  to 
alarm  the  housebreaker.  Maitland  paused,  deliber 
ating  another  and  better  plan,  having  in  mind  a  short 
passageway  connecting  library  and  smoking-room. 
In  the  library  itself  a  heavy  tapestry  curtained  its 
opening,  while  an  equally  heavy  portiere  took  the 
place  of  a  door  at  the  other  end.  In  the  natural 
order  of  things  a  burglar  would  overlook  this. 

Inch  by  inch  the  young  man  edged  into  the  smok 
ing-room,  the  door  to  which  providentially  stood  un- 

73 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

closed.  Once  within,  it  was  but  a  moment's  work  to 
feel  his  way  to  the  velvet  folds  and  draw  them  aside, 
fortunately  without  rattling  the  brass  rings  from 
which  the  curtain  depended.  And  then  Maitland  was 
in  the  passage,  acutely  on  the  alert,  recognizing 
from  the  continued  click  of  metal  that  his  antagonist- 
to-be  was  still  at  his  difficult  task.  Inch  by  inch — • 
there  was  the  tapestry !  Very  gently  the  householder 
pushed  it  aside. 

An  insidious  aroma  of  scorching  varnish  (the  dark 
lantern)  penetrated  the  passage  while  he  stood  on  its 
threshold,  feeling  for  the  electric-light  switch.  Un 
happily  he  missed  this  at  the  first  cast,  and — heard 
from  within  a  quick,  deep  hiss  of  breath.  Something 
had  put  the  burglar  on  guard. 

Another  instant  wasted,  and  it  would  be  too  late. 
The  young  man  had  to  chance  it.  And  he  did,  with 
out  further  hesitation  stepping  boldly  into  the  dan 
ger-zone,  at  the  same  time  making  one  final,  des 
perate  pass  at  the  spot  where  the  switch  should  have 
been — and  missing  it.  On  the  instant  there  came  a 
click  of  a  different  caliber  from  those  that  had  pre- 
74 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

ceded  it.  A  revolver  had  been  cocked,  somewhere 
there  in  the  blank  darkness. 

Maitland  knew  enough  not  to  move.  In  another 
respect  the  warning  came  too  late;  his  fingers  had 
found  the  switch  at  last,  and  automatically  had 
turned  it. 

The  glare  was  blinding,  momentarily ;  but  the  flash 
and  report  for  which  Maitland  waited  did  not  come. 
When  his  eyes  had  adjusted  themselves  to  the  sud 
denly  altered  conditions,  he  saw,  directly  before  him 
and  some  six  feet  distant,  a  woman's  slight  figure, 
dark  cloaked,  resolute  upon  its  two  feet,  head  framed 
in  veiling,  features  effectually  disguised  in  a  motor 
mask  whose  round,  staring  goggles  shone  blankly  in 
the  warm  white  light. 

On  her  part,  she  seemed  to  recognize  him  in 
stantaneously.  On  his.  ...  It  may  as  well  be 
admitted  that  Maitland's  wits  were  gone  wool-gath 
ering,  temporarily  at  least:  a  state  of  mind  not  un 
pardonable  when  it  is  taken  into  consideration  that 
he  was  called  upon  to  grapple  with  and  simultane 
ously  to  assimilate  three  momentous  facts.  For  the 

75 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

first  time  in  his  life  he  found  himself  nose  to  nose 
with  a  revolver,  and  that  one  of  able-bodied  and 
respect-compelling  proportions.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  again,  he  was  under  necessity  of  dealing 
with  a  housebreaker.  But  most  stupefying  of  all  he 
found  the  fact  that  this  housebreaker,  this  armed 
midnight  marauder,  was  a  woman!  And  so  it  was 
not  altogether  fearlessness  that  made  him  to  all  in 
tents  and  purposes  ignore  the  weapon ;  it  is  nothing 
to  his  credit  for  courage  if  his  eyes  struck  past  the 
black  and  deadly  mouth  of  the  revolver  and  looked 
only  into  the  blank  and  expressionless  eyes  of  the 
wind-mask;  it  was  not  lack  of  respect  for  his  skin's 
integrity,  but  the  sheer,  tremendous  wonder  of  it  all, 
that  rendered  him  oblivious  to  the  eternity  that  lay 
the  other  side  of  a  slender,  trembling  finger-tip. 

And    so    he    stared,    agape,    until    presently    the 
weapon  wavered  and  was  lowered  and  the  woman's 
voice,  touched  with  irony,  brought  him  to  his  senses. 
"  Oh,"  she  remarked  coolly,  "  it's  only  you." 
Thunderstruck,  he  was  able  no  more  than  to  parrot 
the  pronoun :  "  You — you!  " 

76 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

"Were  you  expecting  to  meet  any  one  else,  here, 
to-night?  "  she  inquired  in  suavest  mockery. 

He  lifted  his  shoulders  helplessly,  and  tried  to 
school  his  tongue  to  coherence.  "  I  confess.  .  .  . 
Well,  certainly  I  didn't  count  on  finding  you 
here,  Miss  Wentworth.  And  the  black  cloak,  you 
know " 

"  Reversible,  of  course :  grey  inside,  as  you  see — 
Handsome  Dan ! "  The  girl  laughed  quietly,  draw 
ing  aside  an  edge  of  the  garment  to  reveal  its  inner 
face  of  silken  grey  and  the  fluted  ruffles  of  the  grey 
skirt  underneath. 

He  nodded  appreciation  of  the  device,  his  mind 
now  busy  with  speculations  as  to  what  he  should  do 
with  the  girl,  now  that  he  had  caught  her.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  vaguely  vexed  by  her  persistent 
repetition  of  the  obsolescent  nickname. 

"  Handsome  Dan,"  he  iterated  all  but  mechani 
cally.  "  Why  do  you  call  me  that,  please?  Have  we 
met  before?  I  could  swear,  never  before  this  night !  " 

"  But  you  are  altogether  too  modest,"  she  laughed. 
"  Not  that  it's  a  bad  trait  in  the  character  of  a 

77 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

professional.  .  .  .  But  really!  it  seems  a  bit  in 
credible  that  any  one  so  widely  advertised  as  Hand 
some  Dan  Anisty  should  feel  surprise  at  being 
recognized.  Why,  your  portrait  and  biography 
have  commanded  space  in  every  yellow  journal  in 
America  recently ! " 

And,  dropping  the  revolver  into  a  pocket  in  her 
cloak,  "  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  a  servant — or 
even  Maitland,"  she  diverted  the  subject,  with  a  nod. 

"  But — but  if  you  recognized  me  as  Anisty,  back 
there  by  the  ford,  didn't  you  suspect  I'd  drop  in  on 
'you " 

"  Why,  of  course !  Didn't  you  all  but  tell  me  that 
you  were  coming  here?  " 

"  But " 

"  I  thought  perhaps  I  might  get  through  before 
you  came,  Mr.  Anisty ;  but  I  knew  all  the  time  that, 
even  if  you  did  manage  to  surprise  me — er — on  the 
job,  you  wouldn't  call  in  the  police."  She  laughed 
confidently,  and — oddly  enough — at  the  same  time 
nervously.  "  You  are  certainly  a  very  bold  man, 
and  as  surely  a  very  careless  one,  to  run  around  the 

78 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

way  you  do  without  so  much  as  troubling  to  grow 
a  beard  or  a  mustache,  after  your  picture  has  been 
published  broadcast." 

Did  he  catch  a  gleam  of  admiration  in  the  eyes  be 
hind  the  goggles? 

"  Now,  if  ever  they  get  hold  of  my  portrait  and 
print  it.  ...  Well!"  sighed  the  girl  wickedly, 
lifting  slim,  bare  fingers  in  affected  concern  to  the 
mass  of  ruddy  hair,  "  in  that  event  I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  become  a  natural  blonde ! " 

Her  humor,  her  splendid  fearlessness,  the  light 
ness  of  her  tone,  combined  with  the  half-laughing, 
half-serious  look  that  she  swept  up  at  him,  to  ease 
the  tension  of  his  emotions.  For  the  first  time  since 
entering  the  room,  he  smiled;  then  in  silence  for  a 
time  regarded  her  steadfastly,  thinking. 

So  he  resembled  this  burglar,  Anisty,  strongly 
enough  to  be  mistaken  for  him — eh?  Plainly 
enough  the  girl  believed  him  to  be  Anisty.  .  .  . 
Well,  and  why  not?  Why  shouldn't  he  be  Anisty  for 
the  time  being,  if  it  suited  his  purpose  so  to 
masquerade? 

79 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

It  might  possibly  suit  his  purpose.  He  thought 
his  position  one  uncommonly  difficult.  As  Maitland, 
he  had  on  his  hands  a  female  thief,  a  hardened  char 
acter,  a  common  malefactor  (strange  that  he  got  so 
little  relish  of  the  terms!),  caught  red-handed;  as 
Maitland,  his  duty  was  to  hand  her  over  to  the  law, 
to  be  dealt  with  as — what  she  was.  Yet,  even  while 
these  considerations  were  urging  themselves  upon 
him,  he  knew  his  eyes  appraised  her  with  open  ad 
miration  and  interest.  She  stood  before  him,  slight, 
delicate,  pretty,  appealing  in  her  ingenuous  candor ; 
and  at  his  mercy.  How  could  he  bring  himself  to 
deal  with  her  as  he  might  with — well,  Anisty  him 
self?  She  was  a  woman,  he  a  gentle  man. 

As  Anisty,  however, — if  he  chose  to  assume  that 
expert's  identity  for  the  nonce, — he  would  be  placed 
at  once  on  a  plane  of  equality  with  the  girl;  from  a 
fellow  of  her  craft  she  could  hardly  refuse  atten 
tions.  As  Anisty,  he  would  put  himself  in  a  position 
to  earn  her  friendship,  to  gain — perhaps — her  con 
fidence,  to  learn  something  of  her  necessities,  to  aid 
and  protect  her  from  the  consequences  of  her  mis- 

80 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

deeds  ;  possibly — to  sum  up — to  divert  her  footsteps 
to  the  paths  of  a  calling  less  hazardous  and  more 
honorable. 

Worthy  ambition :  to  reform  a  burglar !  Maitland 
regained  something  of  his  lost  self-esteem,  applaud 
ing  himself  for  entertaining  a  motive  so  laudable. 
And  he  chose  his  course,  for  better  or  worse,  in  these 
few  seconds.  Thereby  proving  his  incontestable  title 
to  the  name  and  repute  of  Mad  Maitland. 

His  face  lightened ;  his  manner  changed ;  he  as 
sumed  with  avidity  the  role  for  which  she  had  cast 
him  and  which  he  stood  so  ready  to  accept  and  act. 

"  Well  and  good,"  he  conceded  with  an  air.  "  1 
suppose  I  may  as  well  own  up " 

"  Oh,  I  know  you,"  she  assured  him,  with  a  little, 
confident  shake  of  her  head.  "  There's  no  deceiving 
me.  But,"  and  her  smile  became  rueful,  "  if  only 
you'd  waited  ten  minutes  more!  Of  course  I  recog 
nized  you  from  the  first — down  there  by  the  river; 
and  knew  very  well  what  was  your — lay;  you  gave 
yourself  away  completely  by  mentioning  the  distance 
from  the  river  to  the  Manor.  And  I  did  so  want  to 

81 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

get  ahead  of  you  on  this  job!  What  a  feather  in 
one's  car  to  have  forestalled  Dan  Anisty!  .  .  . 
But  hadn't  you  better  be  a  little  careful  with  those 
lights?  You  seem  to  forget  that  there  are  servants 
in  the  house.  Really,  you  know,  I  find  you  most  ro 
mantically  audacious,  Mr.  Anisty — quite  in  keeping 
with  your  reputation." 

"  You  overwhelm  me,"  he  murmured.  "  Believe 
me,  I  have  little  conceit  in  my  fame,  such  as  it  is." 
And,  crossing  to  the  windows,  he  loosed  the  heavy 
velvet  hangings  and  let  them  fall  together,  drawing 
their  edges  close  so  that  no  ray  of  light  might 
escape. 

She  watched  him  with  interest.  "  You  seem  well 
acquainted  here." 

"  Of  course.  Any  man  of  imagination  is  at  pains 
to  study  every  house  he  enters.  I  have  a  map  of  the 
premises — house  and  grounds — here."  He  indicated 
his  forehead  with  a  long  forefinger. 

"  Quite  right,  too — and  worth  one's  while.  If  ru 
mor  is  to  be  believed,  you  have  ordinarily  more  than 
your  labor  for  your  pains.  You  have  taught  me 

m 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

something  already.  .  .  .  Ah,  well !  "  she  sighed, 
"  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  acknowledge  my  inferiority 
— as  neophyte  to  hierophant.  Master !  "  She  cour- 
tesied  low.  "  I  beg  you  proceed  and  let  thy  cheela 
profit  through  observation ! "  And  a  small  white 
hand  gestured  significantly  toward  the  collection  of 
burglar's  tools, — drills  and  chisels,  skeleton  keys, 
putty,  and  all, — neatly  displayed  upon  the  rug  before 
the  massive  safe. 

"  You  mean  that  you  wish  me  to  crack  this  safe 
for  you?  "  he  inquired,  with  inward  consternation. 

"  Not  for  me.  Disappointment  I  admit  is  mine ; 
but  not  for  the  loss  I  sustain.  In  the  presence  of  the 
master  I  am  content  to  stand  humbly  to  one  side,  as 
befits  one  of  my  lowly  state  in — in  the  ranks  of  our 
profession.  I  resign,  I  abdicate  in  your  favor; 
claiming  nothing  by  right  of  priority." 

"  You  are  too  generous,"  he  mumbled,  confused  by 
her  thinly  veiled  ridicule. 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied  briskly.  "  I  am  entirely 
serious.  My  loss  of  to-day  will  prove  my  gain,  to 
morrow.  I  look  for  incalculable  bent-fit  through 

83 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

study  of  your  methods.  My  own,  I  confess,"  with  a 
contemptuous  toss  of  her  head  toward  the  burglar's 
kit,  "  are  clumsy,  antiquated,  out  of  date.  .  .  . 
But  then,  I'm  only  an  amateur." 

"  Oh,  but  a  woman "  he  began  to  apologize  on 

her  behalf. 

"  Oh,  but  a  woman ! "  she  rapped  out  smartly. 
"  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  this  woman,  at  least, 
is  no  mean "  And  she  hesitated. 

"  Thief?  "  he  supplied  crudely. 

"  Yes,  thief!    We're  two  of  a  feather,  at  that." 

"  True  enough.  .  .  .  But  you  were  first  in 
the  field ;  I  fail  to  see  why  I  should  reap  any  reward 
for  tardiness.  The  spoils  must  be  yours." 

It  was  a  test:  Maitland  watched  her  keenly,  fasci 
nated  by  the  subtlety  of  the  game. 

"  But  I  refuse,  Mr.  Anisty — positively  refuse  to 
go  to  work  while  you  stand  aside  and — and  laugh." 

Pride!  He  stared,  openly  amazed,  at  this  bewil- 
deringly  feminine  bundle  of  inconsistencies.  With 
each  facet  of  her  character  discovered  to  him,  min 
ute  by  minute,  the  study  of  her  became  to  him  the 

84 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

more  engrossing.  He  drew  nearer,  eyes  specu 
lative. 

"  I  will  agree,"  he  said  slowly,  "  to  crack  the  safe, 
but  upon  conditions." 

She  drew  back  imperceptibly,  amused,  but  assert 
ing  her  dignity.  "  Yes?  "  she  led  him  on,  though  in 
no  accent  of  encouragement. 

"  Back  there,  in  the  river,"  he  drawled  deliber 
ately,  forcing  the  pace,  "  I  found  you — beautiful." 

She  flushed,  lip  curling.  "  And,  back  there,  in  the 
river,  I  thought  you — a  gentleman !  " 

"Although  a  burglar?" 

"  A  gentleman  for  all  that !  " 

"  I  promise  you  I  mean  no  harm,"  he  prefaced. 
"  But  don't  you  see  how  I  am  putting  myself  in  your 
power?  Every  moment  you  know  me  better,  while  I 
have  not  yet  even  looked  into  your  face  with  the 
light  full  upon  it.  Honor  among  thieves,  little 
woman ! " 

She  chose  to  ignore  the  intimate  note  in  his  voice. 
"  You're  wasting  time,"  she  hinted  crisply. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that  fact.  Permit  me  to  remind 
85 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

you  that  you  are  helping  me  to  waste  it.  I  will  not 
go  ahead  until  I  have  seen  your  face.  It  is  simply  an 
ordinary  precaution." 

"  Oh,  if  it's  a  matter  of  business " 

"  Self-preservation,"  he  corrected  with  magnifi 
cent  gravity. 

She  hesitated  but  a  moment  longer,  then  with  a 
quick  gesture  removed  her  mask.  Maitland's  breath 
came  fast  as  he  bent  forward,  peering  into  her  face; 
though  he  schooled  his  own  features  to  an  expression 
of  intent  and  inoffensive  studiousness,  he  feared  the 
loud  thumping  of  his  heart  would  betray  him.  As 
he  looked  it  became  evident  that  the  witchery  of 
moonlight  had  not  served  to  exaggerate  the  sensi 
tive,  the  almost  miniature,  beauty  of  her.  If  any 
thing,  its  charm  was  greater  there  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  electric  chandelier,  as  she  faced  him,  giving 
him  glance  for  glance,  quite  undismayed  by  the  in- 
tentness  of  his  scrutiny. 

In  the  clear  light  her  eyes  shone  lustrous,  pools  of 
tawny  flame;  her  hair  showed  itself  of  a  rich  and 
luminous  coppery  hue,  spun  to  immeasurable  fine- 


"HANDSOME    DAN" 

ness;  a  faint  color  burned  in  her  cheeks,  but  in  con 
trast  her  forehead  was  as  snow — the  pure,  white, 
close-grained  skin  that  is  the  heritage  of  red-headed 
women  the  world  over,  and  their  chiefest  charm  as 
well ;  while  her  lips  ... 

As  for  her  lips,  the  most  coherent  statement  to 
be  extracted  from  Mr.  Maitland  is  to  the  effect 
that  they  were  altogether  desirable,  from  the  very 
first. 

The  hauteur  of  her  pose,  the  sympathy  and  laugh 
ter  that  lurked  in  her  mouth,  the  manifest  breeding 
in  the  delicate  modeling  of  her  nostrils,  and  the  firm, 
straight  arch  of  her  nose,  the  astonishing  allurement 
of  her  eyes,  combined  with  their  spirited  womanli 
ness  :  these,  while  they  completed  the  conquest  of  the 
young  man,  abashed  him.  He  found  himself  of  a 
sudden  endowed  with  a  painful  appreciation  of  his 
own  imperfections,  the  littleness  of  his  ego,  the  in 
herent  coarseness  of  his  masculine  fiber,  the  poor 
futility  of  his  ways,  contrasted  with  her  perfections. 
He  felt  as  if  rebuked  for  some  unwarrantable  pre 
sumption.  .  .  .  For  he  had  looked  into  eyes 

87 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

that  were  windows  of  a  soul;  and  the  soul  was  that 
of  a  child,  unsullied  and  immaculate. 

You  may  smile;  but  as  for  Maitland,  he  deemed  it 
no  laughing  matter.  From  that  moment  his  percep 
tion  was  clear  that,  whatever  she  might  claim  to  be, 
however  damning*  the  circumstances  in  which  she  ap 
peared  to  him,  there  was  no  evil  in  her. 

But  what  he  did  not  know,  and  did  not  even  guess, 
was  that,  from  the  same  instant,  his  being  was  in 
bondage  to  her  will.  So  Love  comes,  strangely 
masked. 


IV 

MIDSUMMER    NIGHT*S     MADNESS 

At  length,  awed  and  not  a  little  shamefaced,  "  I 
oeg  jour  pardon,"  he  stammered  wretchedly. 

"  For  what?  "  she  demanded  quickly,  head  up  and 
eyes  light. 

"  For  insisting.  It  wasn't — ah — courteous.  I'm 
sorry." 

It  was  her  turn  now  to  wonder ;  delicacy  of  percep 
tion  such  as  this  is  not  ordinarily  looked  for  in  the 
person  of  a  burglar.  With  a  laugh  and  a  gibe  she 
tried  to  pass  off  her  astonishment. 

"  The  thief  apologizes  to  the  thief?  " 

"Unkind!" 

Briefly  hesitant,  with  an  impulsive  gesture  she 
flung  out  a  generous  hand. 

"  You're  right ;  I  was  unkind.  Forgive  me. 
Won't  you  shake  hands?  I  ...  I  do  want  to 
be  a  good  comrade,  since  it  has  pleased  Fate  to  throw 

89 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

us  together  like  this,  so — so  oddly."  Her  tone  was 
almost  plaintive ;  unquestionably  it  was  appealing. 

Maitland  was  curiously  moved  by  the  touch  of  the 
slim,  cool  fingers  that  lay  in  his  palm.  Not  unpleas 
antly.  He  frowned  in  perplexity,  unable  to  analyze 
the  sensation. 

"  You're  not  angry  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No— but— but " 

"Yes?" 

"  Why  do  you  do  this,  little  woman?  Why  do  you 
stoop  to  this — this  trade  of  yo — of  ours?  Why 
sully  your  hands, — and  not  only  your  hands, — im 
peril  your  good  name,  to  say  nothing  of  your 
liberty ?  " 

She  drew  her  hand  away  quickly,  interrupting  him 
with  a  laugh  that  rang  true  as  a  coin  new  from  the 
mint,  honest  and  genuine. 

"  And  this,"  she  cried,  "  this  from  Dan  Anisty ! 
Positively,  sir,  you  are  delightful!  You  grow  more 
dangerously  original  every  minute!  Your  scruples, 
your  consideration,  your  sympathy — they  are  touch 
ing — in  you!  "  She  wagged  her  head  daintily  in 

90 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

pretense  of  disapprobation.  "  But  shall  I  tell  you?  " 
more  seriously,  doubtfully.  "  I  think  I  shall  .  .  . 
truly.  I  do  this  sort  of  thing,  since  you  must  know, 
because — imprimis,  because  I  like  it.  Indeed  and  I 
do!  I  like  the  danger,  the  excitement,  the  exercise 
of  cunning  and — and  I  like  the  rewards,  too. 
Besides " 

The  corners  of  her  adorable  mouth  drooped  ever 
so  slightly. 

«  Besides ?  » 

"  Why  .  .  .  But  this  is  not  business !  We 
must  hurry.  Will  you,  or  shall  I ?  " 

A  crisis  had  been  passed ;  Maitland  understood  that 
he  must  wait  until  a  more  favorable  time  to  renew 
his  importunities. 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  dropping  on  his  knees  by  the 
safe.  "  In  my  lady's  service !  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  interposed.  "  I  insist.  The  job 
is  now  yours ;  yours  must  be  the  profits." 

"  Then  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  affair,"  he 
stated  in  accents  of  finality.  "  I  refuse.  I  shall  go, 
and  you  can  do  as  you  will, — blunder  on,"  scorn- 

91 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

fully,  "  with  your  nitroglycerin,  your  rags,  and 
drills  and — and  rouse  the  entire  countryside,  if  you 
will." 

"  Ah,  but " 

"  Will  you  accept  my  aid  ?  " 

"  On  conditions,  only,"  she  stipulated.  "  Halvers?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Half  shares,  or  not  at  all !  "    She  was  firm. 

"  A  partnership  ?  " 

This  educed  a  moue  of  doubt,  with :  "  I'm  not  wor 
thy  the  honor." 

"  But,"  he  promised  rashly,  "  I  can  save  you — ohs 
heaps  of  trouble  in  other — ah — lays." 

She  shrugged  helplessly.  "  If  I  must — then  I  do 
accept.  We  are  partners,  Dan  Anisty  and  I !  " 

He  nodded  mute  satisfaction,  brushed  the  tools  out 
of  his  way,  and  bent  an  attentive  ear  to  the  combi 
nation. 

The  girl  swept  across  the  room,  and  there  fol 
lowed  a  click  simultaneous  with  the  total  extinction 
of  light. 

Startled,  "  Why ?  "  he  demanded. 

w 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

"  The  risk,"  she  replied.  "  We  have  been  fright 
fully  careless  and  thoughtless." 

Helplessly  Maitland  twirled  the  combination  dial ; 
without  the  light  he  was  wholly  at  a  loss.  But  a 
breath  later  her  skirts  rustled  near  him ;  the  slide  of 
the  bull's-eye  was  jerked  back,  and  a  circle  of  illu 
mination  thrown  upon  the  lock.  He  bent  his  head 
again,  pretending  to  listen  to  the  fall  of  the  tum 
blers  as  the  dial  was  turned,  but  in  point  of  fact  cov 
ertly  watching  the  letters  and  figures  upon  it. 

The  room  grew  very  silent,  save  for  the  faintly 
regular  respiration  of  the  girl  who  bent  near  his 
shoulder.  Her  breath  was  fragrant  upon  his  cheek. 
The  consciousness  of  her  propinquity  almost  stifled 
him.  .  .  .  One  fears  that  Maitland  pro 
longed  the  counterfeit  study  of  the  combination 
unnecessarily. 

Notwithstanding  this,  she  seemed  amazed  by  the 
ease  with  which  he  solved  it.  "  Wonderful !  "  she  ap 
plauded,  whispering,  as  the  heavy  door  swung  out 
ward  without  a  jar. 

"  Hush !  "  he  cautioned  her. 
93 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

In  his  veins  that  night  madness  was  running  riot, 
swaying  him  to  its  will.  With  never  a  doubt,  never 
a  thought  of  hesitancy,  he  forged  ahead,  wilfully 
blind  to  consequences.  On  the  face  of  it  he  was  play 
ing  a  fool's  part ;  he  knew  it ;  the  truth  is  simply  that 
he  could  not  have  done  other  than  as  he  did.  Con 
sciously  he  believed  himself  to  be  merely  testing  the 
girl ;  subconsciously  he  was  plastic  in  the  grip  of  an 
emotion  stronger  than  he, — moist  clay  upon  the  pot 
ter's  whirling  wheel. 

The  interior  of  the  safe  was  revealed  in  a  shape 
little  different  from  that  of  the  ordinary  household 
strong-box.  There  were  several  account-books, 
ledgers,  and  the  like,  together  with  some  packages  of 
docketed  bills,  in  the  pigeon-holes.  The  cash-box, 
itself  a  safe  within  a  safe,  showed  a  blank  face  broken 
by  a  small  combination  dial.  Behind  this,  in  a  se 
creted  compartment,  the  Maitland  heirlooms  lan 
guished,  half -forgotten  of  their  heedless  owner. 

The  cash-box  combination  offered  less  difficulty 
than  had  the  outer  dial.  Maitland  had  it  open  in  a 
twinkling.  Then,  brazenly  lifting  out  the  inner 

94 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

framework,  bodily,  he  thrust  a  fumbling  hand  into 
the  aperture  thus  disclosed  and  pressed  the  spring, 
releasing  the  panel  at  the  back.  It  disappeared  as 
though  by  witchcraft,  and  the  splash  of  light  from 
the  bull's-eye  discovered  a  canvas  bag  squatting 
humbly  in  the  secret  compartment :  a  fat  little  can 
vas  bag,  considerably  soiled  from  much  handling, 
such  as  is  used  by  banks  for  coin,  a  sturdy,  matter- 
of-fact,  every-day  sort  of  canvas  bag,  with  nothing 
about  it  of  hauteur,  no  air  of  self-importance  or  os 
tentation,  to  betray  the  fact  that  it  was  the  recep 
tacle  of  a  small  fortune. 

At  Maitland's  ear,  incredulous,  "  How  did  you 
guess?"  she  breathed. 

He  took  thought  and  breath,  both  briefly,  and  pre 
varicated  shamelessly :  "  Bribed  the  head-clerk  of  the 
safe-manufacturer  who  built  this." 

Rising,  he  passed  over  to  the  center-table,  the  girl 
following.  "  Steady  with  the  light,"  he  whispered ; 
and  loosed  the  string  around  the  mouth  of  the  bag, 
pouring  its  contents,  a  glistening,  priceless,  flaming, 
iridiscent  treasure  horde,  upon  the  table. 

95 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Oh  \  "  said  a  small  voice  at  his  side.  And  again 
and  again:  "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" 

Maitland  himself  was  moved  by  the  wonder  of 
it.  The  jewels  seemed  to  fill  the  room  with  a  flash 
ing,  amazing,  coruscant  glamour,  rainbow-like.  His 
breath  came  hot  and  fast  as  he  gazed  upon  the  trove ; 
a  queen's  ransom,  a  fortune  incalculable  even  to  its 
owner.  As  for  the  girl,  he  thought  that  the  wonder 
of  it  must  have  struck  her  dumb.  Not  a  sound  came 
from  the  spot  where  she  stood. 

Then,  abruptly,  the  sun  went  out:  at  least,  such 
was  the  effect;  the  light  of  the  hand-lamp  vanished 
utterly,  leaving  a  party-colored  blur  swimming 
against  the  impenetrable  blackness,  before  his  eyes. 

His  lips  opened ;  but  a  small  hand  fell  firmly  upon 
his  own,  and  a  tiny,  tremulous  whisper  shrilled  in 
his  ear. 

"  Hush ah,  hush!  " 

"  What ?  " 

"  Steady.    .     .     .  some  one  commg.    .     .    .     the 


He  heard  the  dull  musical  clash  of  them  as  her 
96 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

hands  swept  them  back  into  the  bag,  and  a  cold, 
sickening  fear  rendered  him  almost  faint  with  the 
sense  of  trust  misplaced,  illusions  resolved  into 
brutal  realities.  His  fingers  closed  convulsively 
about  her  wrists ;  but  she  held  passive. 

"  Ah,  but  I  might  have  expected  that !  "  came  her 
reproachful  whisper.  "  Take  them,  then,  my — my 
partner  that  was."  Her  tone  cut  like  a  knife,  and 
the  touch  of  the  canvas  bag,  as  she  forced  it  into 
his  hands,  was  hateful  to  him. 

"  Forgive  me "  he  began. 

"  But  listen !  " 

For  a  space  he  obeyed,  the  silence  at  first  seeming 
tremendous ;  then,  faint  but  distinct,  he  heard  the 
tinkle  and  slide  of  the  brazen  rings  supporting  the 
smoking-room  portiere. 

His  hand  sought  the  girl's;  she  had  not  moved, 
and  the  cool,  firm  pressure  of  her  fingers  steadied 
him.  He  thought  quickly. 

"  Quick !  "  he  told  her  in  the  least  of  whispers. 
"  Leave  by  the  window  you  opened  and  wait  for 
me  by  the  motor-car." 

97 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"No!" 

There  was  no  time  to  remonstrate  with  her.  Al 
ready  he  had  slipped  away,  shaping  a  course  for 
the  entrance  to  the  passage.  But  the  dominant 
thought  in  his  mind  was  that  at  all  costs  the  girl 
must  be  spared  the  exposure.  She  was  to  be  saved, 
whatever  the  hazard.  Afterwards  .  .  . 

The  tapestry  rustled,  but  he  was  yet  too  far  dis 
tant  to  spring.  He  crept  on  with  the  crouching, 
vicious  attitude,  mental  and  physical,  of  a  panther 
stalking  its  prey.  .  .  . 

Like  a  thunderclap  from  a  clear  sky  the  glare 
of  the  light  broke  out  from  the  ceiling.  Maitland 
paused,  transfixed,  on  tiptoe,  eyes  incredulous,  brain 
striving  to  grapple  with  the  astounding  discovery 
that  had  come  to  him. 

The  third  factor  stood  In  the  doorway,  slender 
and  tall,  in  evening  dress, — as  was  Maitland, — a 
light,  full  overcoat  hanging  open  from  his  shoul 
ders;  one  hand  holding  back  the  curtain,  the  other 
arrested  on  the  light  switch.  His  lips  dropped  open 
and  his  eyes,  too,  were  protruding  with  amazement. 

98 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

Feature  for  feature  he  was  the  counterpart  of  the 
man  before  him;  in  a  word,  here  was  the  real 
Anisty. 

The  wonder  of  it  all  saved  the  day  for  Maitland ; 
Anisty's  astonishment  was  sincere  and  the  more  com 
plete  in  that,  unlike  Maitland,  he  had  been  unpre 
pared  to  find  any  one  in  the  library. 

For  a  mere  second  his  gaze  left  Maitland  and 
traveled  on  to  the  girl,  then  to  the  rifled  safe — 
taking  in  the  whole  significance  of  the  scene.  When 
he  spoke,  it  was  as  if  dazed. 

"  By  God !  "  he  cried — or,  rather,  the  syllables 
seemed  to  jump  from  his  lips  like  bullets  from  a 
gun. 

The  words  shattered  the  tableau.  On  their  echo 
Maitland  sprang  and  fastened  his  fingers  around 
the  other's  throat.  Carried  off  his  feet  by  the  sheer 
ferocity  of  the  assault,  Anisty  gave  ground  a  little. 
For  an  instant  they  were  swaying  back  and  forth, 
with  advantage  to  neither.  Then  the  burglar's  col 
lar  slipped  and  somehow  tore  from  its  stud,  giving 
Maitland's  hands  freer  play.  His  grasp  tightened 

99 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

about  the  man's  gullet;  he  shook  him  mercilessly, 
Anisty  staggered,  gasping,  reeled,  struck  Maitland 
once  or  twice  upon  the  chest, — feeble,  weightless 
elbow-jabs  that  went  for  nothing,  then  concen 
trated  his  energies  in  a  vain  attempt  to  wrench  the 
hands  from  his  throat.  Reeling,  tearing  at  Mait- 
land's  wrists,  face  empurpling,  eyes  staring  in  agony, 
he  stumbled.  Mercilessly  Maitland  forced  him  to 
his  knees  and  bullied  him  across  the  floor  toward 
the  nearest  lounge — with  premeditated  design ;  finally 
succeeding  in  throwing  him  flat;  and  knelt  upon  his 
chest,  retaining  his  grip  but  refraining  from  throt 
tling  him. 

As  it  was,  all  strength  and  thought  of  resistance 
had  been  choked  out  of  Anisty.  He  lay  at  length, 
gasping  painfully. 

Maitland  glanced  over  his  shoulders  and  saw  the 
girl  moving  forward,  apparently  making  for  the 
switch. 

"No!"  he  cried,  peremptory.  "Don't  turn  off 
the  light — please !  " 

"But "  she  doubted. 

100 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNKSS 

"  Let  me  have  those  curtain  cords,  if  you  please," 
he  requested  shortly. 

She  followed  his  gaze  to  the  windows,  interpreted 
his  wishes,  and  was  very  quick  to  carry  them  out. 
In  a  trice  she  was  offering  him  half  a  dozen  of  the 
heavy,  twisted  silk  cords  that  had  been  used  to  loop 
back  the  curtains. 

Soft  yet  strong,  they  were  excellently  well  adapted 
to  Maitland's  needs.  Unceremoniously  he  swung  his 
captive  over  on  his  side,  bringing  his  neck  and  ankles 
in  juxtaposition  to  the  legs  of  that  substantial  piece 
of  furniture,  the  lounge. 

His  hands  the  first  to  be  secured,  and  tightly, 
behind  his  back,  Anisty  lay  helpless,  glaring  vindic 
tively  the  while  gradually  he  recover^  consciousness 
and  strength.  Maitland  cared  little  for  his  evil 
glances;  he  was  busy.  The  burglar's  ankles  were 
next  bound  together  and  to  the  lounge  leg;  and, 
an  instant  later,  a  brace  of  half-hitches  about  the 
man's  neck  and  the  nearest  support  entirely  elimi 
nated  him  as  a  possible  factor  in  subsequent  events. 

"  Those  loops  around  your  throat,"  Maitland 
101 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 


warned  him  curtly,  "  are  loose  enough  now,  but 
if  you  struggle  they'll  tighten  and  strangle  you. 
Understand?" 

Anisty  nodded,  making  an  incoherent  sound  with 
his  swollen  tongue.  At  which  Maitland  frowned, 
smitten  thoughtful  with  a  new  consideration. 

"  You  mustn't  talk,  you  know,"  he  mused  half 
aloud;  and,  whipping  forth  a  handkerchief,  gagged 
Mr.  Anisty. 

After  which,  breathing  hard  and  in  a  maze  of 
perplexity,  he  got  to  his  feet.  Already  his  hearing, 
quickened  by  the  emergency,  had  apprised  him  of 
the  situation's  imminent  hazards.  It  needed  not  the 
girl's  hurried  whisper,  "  The  servants! "  to  warn 
him  of  their  danger.  From  the  rear  wing  of  the 
mansion  the  sounds  of  hurrying  feet  were  distinctly 
audible,  as,  presently,  were  the  heavy,  excited  voices 
of  men  and  the  more  shrill  and  frightened  cries  of 
women. 

Heedless  of  her  displeasure,  Maitland  seized  the 
girl  by  the  arm  and  urged  her  over  to  the  open 
window.  "  Don't  hang  back ! "  he  told  her  ner- 

102 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

vously.  "  You  must  get  out  of  this  before  they  sec 
you.  Do  as  I  tell  you,  please,  and  we'll  save  our 
selves  yet !  If  we  both  make  a  run  for  it,  we're  lost. 
Don't  you  understand?  " 

"No.  Why?"  she  demanded,  reluctant,  spirited, 
obstinate — and  lovely  in  his  eyes. 

"  If  he  were  anybody  else,"  Maitland  indicated, 
with  a  jerk  of  his  head  toward  the  burglar:  "  But 
didn't  you  see?  He  must  be  Maitland — and  he's  my 
double.  I'll  stay,  brazen  it  out,  then,  as  soon  as 
possible,  make  my  escape  and  join  you  by  the 
gate.  Your  motor's  there — what?  Be  ready  for 
me.  .  .  ." 

But  she  had  grasped  his  intention  and  was  sud 
denly  become  pliant  to  his  will.  "  You're  won 
derful  !  "  she  told  him  with  a  little  low  laugh ;  and 
was  gone,  silently  as  a  spirit. 

The  curtains  fell  behind  her  in  long,  straight  folds ; 
Maitland  stilled  their  swaying  with  a  touch,  and 
stepped  back  into  the  room.  For  a  moment  he 
caught  the  eye  of  the  felfow  on  the  floor;  and  it 
was  upturned  to  his,  sardonically  intelligent.  But 

103 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

the  lord  of  the  manor  had  little  time  tc  debate 
consequences. 

Abruptly  the  door  was  flung  wide  and  a  short 
stout  man,  clutching  up  his  trousers  with  a  frantic 
hand,  burst  into  the  library,  brandishing  overhead 
a  rampant  revolver. 

"  'Ands  hup ! "  he  cried,  leveling  at  Maitland. 
And  then,  with  a  fallen  countenance ;  "  Gr-r-r-reat 
'eavins,  sir !  You,  Mister  Maitland,  sir !  " 

"  Ah,  Higgins,"  his  employer  greeted  the  butler 
blandly. 

Higgins  pulled  up,  thunderstruck,  panting  and 
perspiring  with  agitation.  His  fat  cheeks  quivered 
like  the  wattles  of  a  gobbler,  and  his  eyes  bulged  as, 
by  degrees,  he  became  alive  to  the  situation. 

Maitland  began  to  explain,  forestalling  the  em 
barrassments  of  cross-examination. 

"  By  the  merest  accident,  Higgins,  I  was  passing 
in  my  car  with  a  party  of  friends.  Just  for  a  joke 
I  thought  I'd  steal  up  to  the  house  and  see  how  you 
were  behaving  yourselves.  By  chance — again — I 
happened  to  see  this  light  through  the  library  win- 

104 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

dows."  And  Maitland,  putting  an  incautious  hand 
upon  the  bull's-eye  on  the  desk,  withdrew  it  instantly, 
with  an  exclamation  of  annoyance  and  four  scorched 
fingers. 

"  He's  been  at  the  safe,"  he  added  quickly,  divert 
ing  attention  from  himself.  "  I  was  just  in  time." 

"  My  wor-r-rd ! "  said  Higgins,  with  emotion. 
Then  quickly :  "  Did  'e  get  anythin',  do  you  think, 
sir?  " 

Maitland  shook  his  head,  scowling  over  the  but 
ler's  burly  shoulders  at  the  rapidly  augmenting 
concourse  of  servants  in  the  hallway — lackeys, 
grooms,  maids,  cooks,  and  what-not:  a  background 
of  pale,  scared  faces  to  the  tableau  in  the  library. 
"  This  won't  do,"  considered  Maitland.  "  Get  back, 
all  of  you !  "  he  ordered  sternly,  indicating  the  group 
with  a  dominant  and  inflexible  forefinger.  "  Those 
who  are  wanted  will  be  sent  for.  Now  go !  Higgins, 
you  may  stay." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Yes,  sir.  But  wot  an  'orrid  'appenin', 
sir,  if  you'll  permit  me " 

"  I  won't.  Be  quiet  and  listen.  This  man  is 
105 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Amsty — Handsome  Dan  Anisty,  the  notorious  jewel 
thief,  wanted  badly  by  the  police  of  a  dozen  cities. 
You  understand?  .  .  .  I'm  going  now  to  motor 
to  the  village  and  get  the  constables;  I  may,"  he 
invented  desperately,  "  be  delayed — may  have  to  get 
a  detective  from  Brooklyn.  If  this  scoundrel  stirs, 
don't  touch  him.  Let  him  alone — he  can't  escape 
if  you  do.  Above  all  things,  don't  you  dare  to  re 
move  that  gag ! " 

"  Most  cert'inly,  sir.  I  shall  bear  in  mind  wot 
you  says " 

"You'd  best,"  grimly.  "Now  I'm  off.  No;  I 
don't  want  any  attendance — I  know  my  way.  And 
— don't — touch — that — man — till  I  return." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

Maitland  stepped  over  to  the  safe,  glanced  within, 
cursorily,  replaced  a  bundle  of  papers  which  he  did 
not  recall  disturbing,  closed  the  door  and  twirled  the 
combination. 

"  Nothing  gone,"  he  announced.  An  inarticulate 
gurgle  from  the  prostrate  man  drew  a  black  scowl 
from  Maitland.  Recovering,  "  Good  morning,"  he 

106 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

said  politely  to  the  butler,  and  striding  out  of  the 
house  by  the  front  door,  was  careful  to  slam  that 
behind  him,  ere  darting  into  the  shadows. 

The  moon  was  down,  the  sky  a  cold,  opaque  grey, 
overcast  with  a  light  drift  of  cloud.  The  park 
seemed  very  dark,  very  dreary;  a  searching  breeze 
was  sweeping  inland  from  the  Sound,  soughing  sadly 
in  the  tree-tops;  a  chill  humidity  permeated  the  air, 
precursor  of  rain.  The  young  man  shivered,  both 
with  chill  and  reaction  from  the  tension  of  the  emer 
gency  just  past. 

He  was  aware  of  an  instantaneous  loss  of  heart, 
a  subsidence  of  the  elation  which  had  Upheld  him 
throughout  the  adventure;  and  to  escape  this,  to 
forget  or  overcome  it,  took  immediately  to  his  heels, 
scampering  madly  for  the  road,  oppressed  with  fear 
lest  he  should  find  the  girl  gone — with  the  jewels. 

That  she  should  prove  untrue,  faithless,  lacking 
even  that  honor  which  proverbially  obtains  in  the 
society  of  criminals — a  consideration  of  such  a  pos 
sibility  was  intolerable,  as  much  so  as  the  suspense 
of  ignorance.  He  could  not,  would  not,  believe  her 

107 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

capable  of  ingratitude  so  rank ;  and  fought  fiercely, 
unreasoningly,  against  the  conviction  that  she  would 
have  followed  her  thievish  instincts  and  made  off  with 
the  booty.  .  .  .  A  judgment  meet  and  right  upon 
him,  for  his  madness ! 

Heart  in  mouth,  he  reached  the  gates,  passing 
through  without  discovering  her,  and  was  struck 
dumb  and  witless  with  relief  when  she  stepped  quietly 
from  the  shadows  of  a  low  branching  tree,  offering 
him  a  guiding  hand. 

"  Come,"  she  said  quietly.     "  This  way." 

Without  being  exactly  conscious  of  what  he  was 
about  he  caught  the  hand  in  both  his  own. 
"  Then,"  he  exulted  almost  passionately, — "  then 
you  didn't " 

His  voice  choked  in  his  throat.  Her  face,  mo 
mentarily  upturned  to  his,  gleamed  pale  and  weary 
in  the  dreary  light;  the  face  of  a  tired  child,  trou 
bled,  saddened;  yet  with  eyes  inexpressibly  sweet. 
She  turned  away,  tugging  at  her  hand. 

"  You  doubted  me,  after  all ! "  she  commented,  a 
trifle  bitterly. 

108 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 
"  I — no !      You   misunderstand   me.      Believe   me, 


I 


"  Ah,  don't  protest.  What  does  it  make  or  mar, 
whether  or  not  you  trusted  me?  .  .  .You  have," 
she  added  quietly,  "  the  jewels  safe  enough,  I  sup 
pose?  " 

He  stopped  short,  aghast.     "I!    The  jewels!" 

"  I  slipped  them  in  your  coat  pocket  before " 

Instantly  her  hand  was  free,  Maitland  ramming 
both  his  own  into  the  side  pockets  of  his  top-coat. 
"They're  safe!" 

She  smiled  uncertainly. 

"  We  have  no  time,"  said  she.  "  Can  you 
drive ?  " 

They  were  standing  by  the  side  of  her  car,  which 
had  been  cunningly  hidden  in  the  gloom  beneath  a 
spreading  tree  on  the  further  side  of  the  road. 
Maitland,  crestfallen,  offered  his  hand;  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  touched  his  palm  lightly  as  she  jumped 
in.  He  hesitated  at  the  step. 

"You  wish  me  to?" 

She  laughed  lightly.  "  Most  assuredly.  You 
109 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

may  assure  yourself  that  I  shan't  try  to  elude  you 
again " 

"  I  would  I  might  be  sure  of  that,"  he  said,  steady 
ing  his  voice  and  seeking  her  eyes. 

"  Procrastination  won't  make  it  any  more  as 
sured." 

He  stepped  up  and  settled  himself  in  the  driver's 
seat,  grasping  throttle  and  steering-wheel ;  the  great 
machine  thrilled  to  his  touch  like  a  live  thing,  then 
began  slowly  to  back  out  into  the  road.  For  an 
instant  it  seemed  to  hang  palpitant  on  dead  center, 
then  shot  out  like  a  hound  unleashed,  vent  re-a-t  err  e, 
— Brooklyn  miles  away  over  the  hood. 

It  seemed  but  a  minute  ere  they  were  thundering 
over  the  Myannis  bridge.  A  little  further  on  Mait- 
land  slowed  down  and,  jumping  out,  lighted  the 
lamps.  In  the  seat  again, — no  words  had  passed, — 
he  threw  in  the  high-speed  clutch,  and  the  world 
flung  behind  them,  roaring.  Thereafter,  breathless, 
stunned  by  the  frenzy  of  speed,  perforce  silent,  they 
bored  on  through  the  night,  crashing  along  deserted 
highways. 

110 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

In  the  east  a  band  of  pallid  light  lifted  up  out  of 
the  night,  and  the  horizon  took  shape  against  it, 
stark  and  black.  Slowly,  stealthily,  the  formless  dawn 
dusk  spread  over  the  sleeping  world ;  to  the  zenith 
the  light-smitten  stars  reeled  and  died,  and  houses, 
fields,  and  thoroughfares  lay  a-glimrner  with  ghostly 
twilight  as  the  car  tore  headlong  through  the 
grim,  unlovely,  silent  hinterland  of  Long  Island 
City. 

The  gates  of  the  ferry-house  were  inexorably 
shut  against  them  when  at  last  Maitland  brought 
the  big  machine  to  a  tremulous  and  panting  halt, 
like  that  of  an  over-driven  thoroughbred.  And 
though  they  perforce  endured  a  wait  of  fully  fifteen 
minutes,  neither  found  aught  worth  saying;  or  else 
the  words  wherewith  fitly  to  clothe  their  thoughts 
were  denied  them.  The  girl  seemed  very  weary,  and 
sat  with  head  drooping  and  hands  clasped  idly  in  her 
lap.  To  Maitland's  hesitant  query  as  to  her  com 
fort  she  returned  a  monosyllabic  reassurance.  He 
did  not  again  venture  to  disturb  her;  on  his  own 
part  he  was  conscious  of  a  clogging  sense  of  exhaus- 

111 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

tion,  of  a  drawn  and  haggard  feeling  about  the  eyes 
and  temples ;  and  knew  that  he  was  keeping  awake 
through  main  power  of  will  alone,  his  brain  working 
automatically,  his  being  already  a-doze. 

The  fresh  wind  off  the  sullen  river  served  in  some 
measure  to  revive  them,  once  the  gates  were  opened 
and  the  car  had  taken  a  place  on  the  ferry-boat's 
forward  extreme.  Day  was  now  full  upon  the  world ; 
above  a  horizon  belted  with  bright  magenta,  the 
cloudless  sky  was  soft  turquoise  and  sapphire;  and 
abruptly,  while  the  big  unwieldy  boat  surged  across 
the  narrow  ribbon  of  green  water,  the  sun  shot  up 
with  a  shout  and  turned  to  an  evanescent  dream  of 
fairy-land  the  gaunt,  rock-ribbed  profile  of  Manhat 
tan  Island,  bulking  above  them  in  tier  upon  tier  of 
monstrous  buildings. 

On  the  Manhattan  side,  in  deference  to  the  girl's 
low-spoken  wish,  Maitland  ran  the  machine  up  to 
Second  Avenue,  turned  north,  and  brought  it  to  a 
stop  by  the  curb,  a  little  north  of  Thirty-fifth 
Street. 

"  And  now  whither?  "  he  inquired,  hands  somewhat 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

impatiently  ready  upon  the  driving  and  steering- 
gear. 

The  girl  smiled  faintly  through  her  veil.  "  You 
have  been  most  kind,"  she  told  him  in  a  tired  voice. 
"  Thank  you — from  my  heart,  Mr.  Anisty,"  and 
made  a  move  as  if  to  relieve  him  of  his  charge. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  he  demanded  blankly. 

"  Can  I  say  more?  " 

"I  .  .  .'  I  am  to  go  no  further  with  you?" 
Sick  with  disappointment,  he  rose  and  dropped  to 
the  sidewalk — anticipating  her  affirmative  answer. 

"  If  you  would  please  me,"  said  the  girl,  "  you 
won't  insist.  .  .  ." 

"  I  don't,"  he  returned  ruefully.  "  But  are  you 
quite  sure  that  you're  all  right  now?  " 

"  Quite,  thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Anisty !  "  With  a 
pretty  gesture  of  conquering  impulse  she  swept  her 
veil  aside,  and  the  warm  rose-glow  of  the  new-born 
day  tinted  her  wan  young  cheeks  with  color.  And 
her  eyes  were  as  stars,  bright  with  a  mist  of  emotion, 
brimming  with  gratitude — and  something  else.  He 
could  not  say  what ;  but  one  thing  he  knew,  and  that 

113 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

was  that  she  was  worn  with  excitement  and  fatigue, 
near  to  the  point  of  breaking  down. 

"  You're  tired,"  he  insisted,  solicitous.  "  Can't 
you  let  me ?  " 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  admitted  wistfully,  voice  sub 
dued,  yet  rich  and  vibrant.  "  No,  please.  Please  let 
me  go.  Don't  ask  me  any  questions — now." 

"  Only  one,"  he  made  supplication.  "  I've  done 
nothing " 

"  Nothing  but  be  more  kind  than  I  can  say ! " 

"  And  you're  not  going  to  back  out  of  our  part 
nership  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  And  now  the  color  in  her  cheeks  was 
warmer  than  that  which  the  dawn  had  lent  them. 
"No.  ...  I  shan't  back  out."  And  she 
smiled. 

"  And  if  I  call  a  meeting  of  the  board  of  man 
agement  of  Anisty  and  Wentworth,  Limited,  you  will 
promise  to  attend?" 

"Ye-es     .     .     ." 

"  Will  it  be  too  early  if  I  call  one  for  to-day?  " 

"Why    .     .     ," 

114 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

"  Say  at  two  o'clock  this  afternoon,  at  Eugene's. 
You  know  the  place?  " 

"  I  have  lunched  there " 

"  Then  you  shall  again  to-day.  You  won't  dis 
appoint  me?  " 

" 1  will  be  there.  I  ...  I  shall  be  glad  to 
come.  Now — please!  " 

"  You've  promised.     Don't  forget." 

He  stepped  back  and  stood  in  a  sort  of  dreamy 
daze,  while,  with  one  final  wonderful  smile  at  part 
ing,  the  girl  assumed  control  of  the  machine  and 
swung  it  out  from  the  curb.  Maitland  watched  it 
forge  slowly  up  the  Avenue  and  vanish  round  the 
Thirty-sixth  Street  corner;  then  turned  his  face 
southward,  sighing  with  weariness  and  discontent. 

At  Thirty-fourth  Street  a  policeman,  lounging 
beneath  the  corrugated  iron  awning  of  a  corner 
saloon,  faced  about  with  a  low  whistle,  to  stare  after 
him.  Maitland  experienced  a  chill  sense  of  criminal 
guilt ;  he  was  painfully  conscious  of  those  two  shrewd 
eyes,  boring  gimlet-like  into  his  back,  overlooking 
no  detail  of  the  wreck  of  his  evening  clothes.  Invol- 

115 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

untarily   he    glanced   down    at   his    legs,    and   they 
moved  mechanically  beneath  the  edge  of  his   over 
coat,  like  twin  animated  columns  of  mud  and  dust, 
openly  advertising  his  misadventures.    He  felt  in  his 
soul  that  they  shrieked  aloud,  that  they  would  pres 
ently  succeed  in  dinning  all  the  town  awake,  so  that 
the  startled  populace  would  come  to  the  windows  to 
.tare  in  wonder  as  he  passed  by.     And  inwardly  he 
groaned  and  quaked. 

'  As  for  the  policeman,  after  some  reluctant  hesita 
tion,  he  overcame  the  inherent  indisposition  to  exer 
tion  that  affects  his  kind,  and,  swinging  his  stick, 
stalked  after  Maitland. 

Happily    (and  with  heartfelt  thanksgiving)    the 
young  man  chanced  upon  a  somnolent  and  bedrag 
gled  hack,  at  rest  in  the  stenciled  shadows  of  the 
Third   Avenue   elevated   structure.      Its    pilot   was 
snoring  lustily  the  sleep  of  the  belated,  on  the  box. 
With  some  difficulty  he  was  awakened,  and  Maitland 
dodged  into  the  musty,  dusty  body  of  the  vehicle, 
grateful  to   escape  the  unprejudiced   stare   of  the 
guardian  of  the  peace,  who  in  another  moment  would 

116 


MIDSUMMER    NIGHT'S    MADNESS 

have  overtaken  him  and,  doubtless,  subjected  him  to 
embarrassing  inquisition. 

As  the  ancient  four-wheeler  rattled  noisily  over 
the  cobbles,  some  of  the  shops  were  taking  down 
their  shutters,  the  surface  cars  were  beginning  to 
run  with  increasing  frequency,  and  the  sidewalks 
were  becoming  sparsely  populated.  Familiar  as  the 
sights  were,  they  were  yet  somehow  strangely  unreal 
to  the  young  man.  In  a  night  the  face  of  the  world 
had  changed  for  him;  its  features  loomed  weirdly 
blurred  and  contorted  through  the  mystical  grey- 
gold  atmosphere  of  the  land  of  Romance,  wherein 
he  really  lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being.  The 
blatant  day  was  altogether  preposterous :  to-day  was 
a  dream,  something  nightmarish;  last  night  he  had 
been  awake,  last  night  for  the  first  time  in  twenty- 
odd  years  of  existence  he  had  lived.  .  .  • 

He  slipped  unthinkingly  one  hand  into  his  coat 
pocket,  seeking  instinctively  his  cigarette  case;  and 
his  fingers  brushed  the  coarse-grained  surface  of  a 
canvas  bag.  He  jumped  as  if  electrified.  He  had 
managed  altogether  to  forget  them,  yet  in  his  keep- 

117 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

ing  were  the  jewels,  Maitland  heirlooms the  swag 

and  booty,  the  loot  and  plunder  of  the  night's  ad 
venture.  And  he  smiled  happily  to  think  that  his 
interest  in  them  was  fifty  per-cent.  depreciated  in 
twenty-four  hours ;  now  he  owned  only  half. 

Suddenly  he  sat  up,  with  happy  eyes  and  a  glow 
ing  face.     She  had  trusted  him! 


118 


INCOGNITO 

At  noon,  precisely,  Maitland  stirred  between  the 
sheets  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  thrown  himself 

into  his  bed stirred,  and,  confused  by  whatever 

alarm  had  awakened  him,  yawned  stupendously,  and 
sat  up,  rubbing  clenched  fists  in  his  eyes  to  clear 
them  of  sleep's  cobwebs.  Then  he  bent  forward, 
clasping  his  knees,  smiled  largely,  replaced  the  smile 
with  a  thoughtful  frown,  and  in  such  wise  contem 
plated  the  foot  of  the  bed  for  several  minutes, — his 
first  conscious  impression,  that  he  had  something 
delightful  to  look  forward  to  yielding  to  a  vague 
recollection  of  a  prolonged  shrill  tintinnabulation — 
as  if  the  telephone  bell  in  the  front  room  had  been 
ringing  for  some  time. 

But  he  waited  in  vain  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound, 
and  eventually  concluded  that  he  had  been  mistaken ; 
it  had  been  an  echo  from  his  dreams,  most  likely, 

119 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Besides,  who  should  call  him  up?  Not  two  people 
knew  that  he  was  in  town:  not  even  O'Hagan 
was  aware  that  he  had  returned  to  his  rooms 

morning. 

He  gaped  again,  stretching  wide  his   arms,  sat 
up  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  heard  the  clock  * 

twelve. 

Noon  and  ,.:/*„  .  He  had  an  engagement  at 
two!  He  brightened  at  the  memory  and,  jumping 
up,  pressed  an  electric  call-button  on  the  wall.  By 
the  time  he  had  paddled  barefoot  to  the  bath-room 
and  turned  on  the  cold-water  tap,  O'Hagan's  knock 
summoned  him  to  the  hall  door. 

"  Back  again,  O'Hagan;  and  in  a  desperate  rash. 
I'll  want  you  to  shave  me  and  send  some  telegrams, 
please.     Must  be  off  by  one-thirty.     You  may  get 
out  my  grey-striped  flannels ''-here  he  paused,  cal 
culating  his  costume  wifh  careful  discriminafaon,- 
"and   a  black-striped  negligee   shirt;  grey   socks; 
russet  low  shoes;  black  and  white  check  tie-broad 
wings.     You  know  where  to  find  them  all?  " 

"  Shure  yiss,  sor." 

120 


INCOGNITO 

O'Hagan  showed  no  evidence  of  surprise;  the  ec 
centricities  of  Mr.  Maitland  could  not  move  him, 
who  was  inured  to  them  through  long  association 
and  observation.  He  moved  away  to  execute  his 
instructions,  quietly  efficient.  By  the  time  Maitland 
had  finished  splashing  and  gasping  in  the  bath-tub, 
everything  was  ready  for  the  ceremony  of  dressing. 

In  other  words,  twenty  minutes  later  Maitland, 
bathed,  shaved,  but  still  in  dressing-gown  and  slip 
pers,  was  seated  at  his  desk,  a  cup  of  black  coffee 
steaming  at  his  elbow,  a  number  of  yellow  telegraph 
blanks  before  him,  a  pen  poised  between  his  fingers. 

It  was  in  his  mind  to  send  a  wire  to  Cressy,  apolo 
gizing  for  his  desertion  of  the  night  just  gone,  and 
announcing  his  intention  to  rejoin  the  party  from 
which  the  motor  trip  to  New  York  had  been  as 
planned  but  a  temporary  defection,  in  time  for  din 
ner  that  same  evening.  He  nibbled  the  end  of  the 
pen-holder,  selecting  phrases,  then  looked  up  at  the 
attentive  O'Hagan. 

"  Bring  me  a  New  Haven  time-table,  please,"  he 
began,  "  and " 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

The  door-bell  abrupted  his  words,  clamoring 
shrilly. 

"What  the  deuce?"  he  demanded.  "Who  can 
that  be  ?  Answer  it,  will  you,  O'Hagan  ?  " 

He  put  down  the  pen,  swallowed  his  coffee,  and  lit 
a  cigarette,  listening  to  the  murmurs  at  the  hall 
door.  An  instant  later,  O'Hagan  returned,  bearing 
a  slip  of  white  pasteboard  which  he  deposited  on  the 
desk  before  Maitland. 

"  '  James  Burleson  Snaith,'  "  Maitland  read  aloud 
from  the  faultlessly  engraved  card.  "  I  don't  know 
him.  What  does  he  want?  " 

"  Wouldn't  say,  sor ;  seemed  surprised  whin  I 
towld  him  ye  were  in,  an'  said  he  was  glad  to  hear 
it — business  pressin',  says  he." 

"  '  Snaith  '  ?  But  I  never  heard  the  name  before. 
What  does  he  look  like?  " 

"  A  gintleman,  sor,  be  th'  clothes  av  him  an'  th' 
way  he  talks." 

"Well  .,...-...,..  Devil  take  the  man!  Show 
him  in." 

"  Very  good,  sor." 


INCOGNITO 

Maitland  swung  around  in  his  desk  chair,  his  back 
to  the  window,  expression  politely  curious,  as  his 
caller  entered  the  room,  pausing,  hat  in  hand,  just 
across  the  threshold. 

He  proved  to  be  a  man  apparently  of  middle 
age,  of  height  approximating  Maitland's ;  his  shoul 
ders  were  slightly  rounded  as  if  from  habitual  bend 
ing  over  a  desk,  his  pose  mild  and  deferential.  By 
his  eyeglasses  and  peering  look,  he  was  near-sighted ; 
by  his  dress,  a  gentleman  of  taste  and  judgment  as 
well  as  of  means  to  gratify  both.  A  certain  jaunty 
and  summery  touch  in  his  attire  suggested  a  person 
of  leisure  who  had  just  run  down  from  his  country 
place,  for  a  day  in  town. 

His  voice,  when  he  spoke,  did  nothing  to  dispel 
the  illusion. 

"  Mr.  Maitland? "  he  opened  the  conversation 
briskly.  "  I  trust  I  do  not  intrude?  I  shall  be  brief 
as  possible,  if  you  will  favor  me  with  a  private  inter 
view." 

Maitland  remarked  a  voice  well  modulated  and  a 
good  choice  of  words.  He  rose  courteously. 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

« I  should  be  pleased  to  do  so,"  he  suggested,  «  if 
you  could  advance  any  reasons  for  such  a  request." 

Mr.  Snaith  smiled  discreetly,  fumbling  in  has  sid 
pocket.     A   second  slip  of  cardboard  appeared  be 
tween  his  fingers  as  he  stepped  over  toward 

land. 

«  If  I  had  not  feared  it  might  deprive  me  of 
interview,  I  should  have  sent  in  my  business  card  at 
once,"  he  said.    "  Permit  me." 

Maitland  accepted  the  card  and  elevated  his  brows. 
«  Oh! "  he  said,  putting  it  down,  his  manner  becom 
ing  perceptibly  less  cordial.  «  I  say,  O'Hagan." 

«  Yessor?  " 

« I  shall  be  busy  for-  Will  half  an  hour  satisfy 

you,  Mr.  Snaith?" 

«  You  are  most  kind,"  the  stranger  bowed. 
« In  half  an  hour,  O'Hagan,  you  may  return." 
«  Very  good,  sor."    And  the  hall  door  closed. 
«  So,"   said  Maitland,  turning  to  face  the  man 
squarely,  "you  are  from  Police  Headquarters?" 

« As  you  see."     Mr.   Snaith  motioned  delicately 
toward  his  business  card— as  he  called  it. 

124 


INCOGNITO 

"  Well  ?  " — after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  I  am  a  detective,  you  understand." 

"  Perfectly,"  Maitland  assented,  unmoved. 

His  caller  seemed  partly  amused,  partly — but 
very  slightly — embarrassed.  "  I  have  been  assigned 
to  cover  the  affair  of  last  night,"  he  contin 
ued  blandly.  "  I  presume  you  have  no  objection 
to  giving  me  what  information  you  may  pos 
sess." 

"Credentials?" 

The  man's  amusement  was  made  visible  in  a  fugi 
tive  smile,  half-hidden  by  his  small  and  neatly 
trimmed  mustache.  Mutely  eloquent,  he  turned  back 
the  lapel  of  his  coat,  exposing  a  small  shield;  at 
which  Maitland  glanced  casually. 

"  Very  well,"  he  consented,  bored  but  resigned. 
"  Fire  ahead,  but  make  it  as  brief  as  you  can ;  I've 
an  engagement  in  " — glancing  at  the  clock — "  an 
hour,  and  must  dress." 

"  I'll  detain  you  no  longer  than  is  essential. 
Of  course  you  understand  how  keen  we  are  after  this 
man,  Anisty." 

125 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  What  puzzles  me,"  Maitland  interrupted,  "  is 
how  you  got  wind  of  the  affair  so  soon." 

"  Then  you  have  not  heard?  "  Mr.  Snaith  ex 
hibited  polite  surprise. 

"  I  am  just  out  of  bed." 

"  Anisty  escaped  shortly  after  you  left  Maitland 
Manor." 

"Ah!" 

Mr.  Snaith  knitted  his  brows,  evidently  at  a  loss 
whether  to  ascribe  Maitland's  exclamation  as  due 
to  surprise,  regret,  or  relief.  Which  pleased  Mait 
land,  who  had  been  at  pains  to  make  his  tone  non 
committal.  In  point  of  fact  he  was  neither  surprised 
nor  regretful. 

"  Thunder !  "  he  continued  slowly.  "  I  forgot  to 
'phone  Higgins." 

"  That  is  why  I  called.  Your  butler  did  not  know 
where  you  could  be  found.  You  had  left  in  great 
haste,  promising  to  send  constables ;  you  failed  to 
do  so ;  Higgins  got  no  word.  In  the  course  of  an 
hour  or  so  his  charge  began  to  choke, — or  pretended 
to.  Higgins  became  alarmed  and  removed  the  gag. 

126 


INCOGNITO 

Anisty  lay  quiet  until  his  face  resumed  its  normal 
color  and  then  began  to  abuse  Higgins  for  a  thick 
headed  idiot." 

Mr.  Snaith  interrupted  himself  to  chuckle 
lightly. 

"  You  noticed  a  resemblance?  "  he  resumed. 

Maitland,  too,  was  smiling.  "  Something  of  the 
sort." 

"  It  is  really  remarkable,  if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  so."  Snaith  was  studying  his  host's  face  in 
tently.  "  Higgins,  poor  fellow,  had  his  faith  shaken 
to  the  foundations.  This  Anisty  must  be  a  clever 
actor  as  well  as  a  master  burglar.  Having  cursed 
Higgins  root  and  branch,  he  got  his  second  wind  and 
explained  that  he  was — Mr.  Maitland !  Conceive 
Higgins'  position.  What  could  he  do?  " 

"  What  he  did,  I  gather." 

"  Precisely." 

"And  Anisty?" 

"  Once  loosed,  he  knocked  Higgins  over  with  the 
butt  of  a  revolver,  jumped  out  of  the  window,  and 
vanished.  By  the  time  the  butler  got  his  senses 

127 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

back,  Anisty,  presumably,  was  miles  away.  •  .  . 
Mr.  Maitland !  "  said  Snaith  sharply. 

"Yes?  "  responded  Maitland,  elevating  his  brows, 
refusing  to  be  startled. 

"  Why,"  crisply,  "  didn't  you  send  the  constables 
from  Greenfields,  according  to  your  promise?  " 

Maitland  laughed  uneasily  and  looked  down,  visi 
bly  embarrassed,  acting  with  consummate  address, 
playing  the  game  for  all  he  was  worth;  and  enjoy 
ing  it  hugely. 

"  Why  .  v,;>*  I  ...  Really,  Mr.  Snaith, 
I  must  confess " 

"  A  confession  would  aid  us  materially,"  dryly. 
"  The  case  is  perplexing.  You  round  up  a  burglar 
sought  by  the  police  of  two  continents,  and  listlessly 
permit  his  escape.  Why?  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  be  pressed,"  said  Maitland 
with  evident  candor ;  "  but,  since  you  say  it  is  im 
perative,  that  you  must  know "  Snaith  inclined 

his  head  affirmatively.  "  Why  ...  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  a  bit  under  the  weather  last  night:  out 
with  a  party  of  friends,  you  know.  Dare  say  we  all 

128 


INCOGNITO 

had  a  bit  more  than  we  could  carry.  The  capture 
was  purely  accidental;  we  had  other  plans  for  the 
night  and — well,"  laughing  shortly,  "  I  didn't  give 
the  matter  too  much  thought,  beyond  believing  that 
Higgins  would  hold  the  man  tight." 

"  I  see.  It  is  unfortunate,  but  ;  .  •  .  you  mo 
tored  back  to  town." 

It  was  not  a  question,  but  Maitland  so  consid 
ered  it. 

"  We  did,"  he  admitted. 

"  And  came  here  directly?  '* 

«  7  did." 

"  Mr.  Maitland,  why  not  be  frank  with  me?  My 
sole  object  is  to  capture  a  notorious  burglar.  I  have 
no  desire  to  meddle  with  your  private  affairs,  but 
.  .  .  You  may  trust  in  my  discretion.  Who  was 
the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  To  conceal  her  identity,"  said  Maitland,  undis 
turbed,  "  is  precisely  why  I  have  been  lying  to  you." 

"You  refuse  us  that  information?  " 

"  Absolutely.  I  have  no  choice  in  the  matter. 
You  must  see  that." 

129 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Snaith  shook  his  head,  baffled,  infinitely  perturbed, 
to  Maitland's  hidden  delight. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  the  policeman  at  the 
ferry  recognized  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  well  known  to  him,"  admitted  Snaith. 
"  But  that  is  a  side  issue.  What  puzzles  me  is  why 
you  let  Anisty  escape.  It  is  inconceivable." 

"  From  a  police  point  of  view." 

"  From  any  point  of  view,"  said  Snaith  obstinately. 
"  The  man  breaks  into  your  house,  steals  your 
jewels " 

"  This  is  getting  tiresome,"  Maitland  interrupted 
curtly.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  suspect  me  of  con 
niving  at  the  theft  of  my  own  property  ?  " 

Snaith's  eyes  were  keen  upon  him.  "  Stranger 
things  have  been  known.  And  yet — the  motive  is 
lacking.  You  are  not  financially  embarrassed, — so 
far  as  we  can  determine,  at  least." 

Maitland  politely  interposed  his  fingers  between 
his  yawn  and  the  detective's  intent  regard.  "  You 
have  ten  minutes  more,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  he  said, 
glancing  at  the  clock. 

130 


INCOGNITO 

"And   there   is    another   point,    more   significant 
yet." 
"Ah?" 

;<Yes."     Snaith  bent  forward,  elbows  on  kneess 
hat  and  cane  swinging,  eyes  implacable,  hard,   re 
lentless.     "  Anisty,"  he  said  slowly,  "  left  a  tolerably 
complete  burglar's  kit  in  your  library." 
"Well — he's  a  burglar,  isn't  he?  " 
"  Not  that  kind."    Snaith  shook  his  head. 
"But   his   departure   was   somewhat   hurried.      I 

can  conceive  that  he  might  abandon  his  kit " 

"  But  it  was  not  his." 
"Not  Anisty's?" 

"Anisty  does  not  depend  on  such  antiquated 
methods,  Mr.  Maitland;  save  that  in  extreme  in 
stances,  with  a  particularly  stubborn  safe,  he  em 
ploys  a  high  explosive  that,  so  far  as  we  can  find 
out,  is  practically  noiseless.  Its  nature  is  a  mys 
tery.  .  .  .  But  such  old-fashioned  strong-boxes 
as  yours  at  Greenfields  he  opens  by  ear,  so  to  speak, 
listens  to  the  combination.  He  was  once  an  ex 
pert,  reputably  employed  by  a  prominent  firm  of  safe 

131 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

manufacturers,  in  whose  service  he  gained  the  skill 
that  has  made  him — what  he  is." 

"  But,"— Maitland  cast  about  at  random,  feeling 
himself  cornered,—"  may  he  not  have  had  accom 
plices?" 

«  He's  no  such  fool.  Unless  he  has  gone  mad, 
he  worked  alone.  I  presume  you  discovered  no  ac 
complice?  " 

"I?     The  devil,  no!" 

Snaith  smiled  mysteriously,  then  fell  thoughtful, 

pondering. 

"You  are  an  enigma,"  he  said,  at  length, 
can  not  understand  why  you  refuse  us  all  informa 
tion,  when  I  consider  that  the  jewels  were  yours " 

"  Are  mine,"  Maitland  corrected. 
"  No  longer." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  have  them." 
Snaith    shook    his    head,    smiling    incredulously. 
Maitland   flushed  with   annoyance   and   resentment, 
then  on  impulse  rose  and  strode  into  the  adjoining 
bedroom,  returning  with  a  small  canvas  bag. 

"You  shall  see  for  yourself,"  he  said,  depositing 


INCOGNITO 

the  bag  on  the  desk  and  fumbling  with  the  draw 
string.  "  If  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  step  over 
here " 

Mr.  Snaith,  still  uneonvinced,  hesitated,  then  as 
sented,  halting  a  brief  distance  from  Maitland  and 
toying  abstractedly  with  his  cane  while  the  young 
man  plucked  at  the  draw-string. 

"  Deuced  tight  knot,  this,"  commented  Maitland, 
annoyed. 

"  No  matter.  Don't  trouble,  please.  I'm  quite 
satisfied,  believe  me." 

"Oh,  you  are!" 

Maitland  turned;  and  in  the  act  of  turning,  the 
loaded  head  of  the  cane  landed  with  crushing  force 
upon  his  temple. 

For  an  instant  he  stood  swaying,  eyes  closed,  face 
robbed  of  every  vestige  of  color,  deep  lines  of  agony 
graven  in  his  forehead  and  about  his  mouth;  then 
fell  like  a  lifeless  thing,  limp  and  invertebrate. 

The  soi-disant  Mr.  Snaith  caught  him  and  let 
him  gently  and  without  sound  to  the  floor. 

"  Poor  fool ! "  he  commented,  kneeling  to  make  a 
133 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hasty  examination.  "  Hope  I  haven't  done  for  him. 
.  .  .  It  would  be  the  first  time.  .  .  .  Bad 
precedent!  .  .  .  So!  He's  all  right — conscious 
within  an  hour.  .  .  .  Too  soon ! "  he  added, 
standing  and  looking  down.  "Well,  turn  about's 
fair  play." 

He  swung  on  his  heel  and  entered  the  hallway, 
pausing  at  the  door  long  enough  to  shoot  the  bolt; 
then  passed  hastily  through  the  other  chambers, 
searching,  to  judge  by  his  manner. 

In  the  end  a  closed  door  attracted  him;  he  jerked 
it  open,  with  an  exclamation  of  relief.  It  gave  upon 
a  large  bare  room,  used  by  Maitland  as  a  trunk- 
closet.  Here  were  stout  leather  straps  and  cords 
in  ample  measure.  "  Mr.  Snaith "  selected  one 
from  them  quickly  but  with  care,  choosing  the 
strongest. 

In  two  more  minutes,  Maitland,  trussed,  gagged, 
still  unconscious,  and  breathing  heavily,  occupied  a 
divan  in  his  smoking-room,  while  his  assailant,  in  the 
bedroom,  ears  keen  to  catch  the  least  sound  from  with 
out,  was  rapidly  and  cheerfully  arraying  himself  in 


INCOGNITO 

the  Maitland  grey-striped  flannels  and  accessories — 
even  to  the  grey  socks  which  had  been  specified. 

"  The  less  chances  one  takes,  the  better,"  solilo 
quized  "  Mr.  Snaith." 

He  stood  erect,  in  another  man's  shoes,  squaring 
back  his  shoulders,  discarding  the  disguising  stoop, 
and  confronted  his  image  in  a  pier-glass. 

"  Good  enough  Maitland,"  he  commented,  with  a 
little  satisfied  nod  to  his  counterfeit  presentment. 
"  But  we'll  make  it  better  still." 

A  single  quick  jerk  denuded  his  upper  lip;  he 
stowed  the  mustache  carefully  away  in  his  breast 
pocket.  The  moistened  corner  of  a  towel  made  quick 
work  of  the  crow's-feet  about  his  eyes,  and,  simulta 
neously,  robbed  him  of  a  dozen  apparent  years.  A 
pair  of  yellow  chamois  gloves,  placed  conveniently 
on  a  dressing  table,  covered  hands  that  no  art  could 
make  resemble  Maitland's.  And  it  was  Daniel  Mait 
land  who  studied  himself  in  the  pier-glass. 

Contented,  the  criminal  returned  to  the  smoking- 
room.  A  single  glance  assured  him  that  his  victim 
was  still  dead  to  the  world.  He  sat  down  at  the 

135 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

desk,  drew  off  the  gloves,  and  opened  the  bag ;  a  peep 
within  which  was  enough.  With  a  deep  and  slow  in 
take  of  breath  he  knotted  the  draw-string  and 
dropped  the  bag  into  his  pocket.  A  jeweled  cigar 
ette  case  of  unique  design  shared  the  same  fate. 

Quick  eyes  roaming  the  desk  observed  the  tele 
gram  form  upon  which  Maitland  had  written 
Cressy's  name  and  address.  Momentarily  per 
plexed,  the  thief  pondered  this ;  then,  with  a  laughing 
oath,  seized  the  pen  and  scribbled,  with  no  attempt 
to  imitate  the  other's  handwriting,  a  message: 

"  Regret  unavoidable  detention.  Letter  of  ex 
planation  -follows" 

To  this  Maitland's  name  was  signed.  "  That 
ought  to  clear  him  neatly,  if  I  understand  the  emer 
gency." 

The  thief  rose,  folding  the  telegraph  blank,  and 
returned  to  the  bedroom,  taking  up  his  hat  and  the 
murderous  cane  as  he  went.  Here  he  gathered  to 
gether  all  the  articles  of  clothing  that  he  had  dis 
carded,  conveying  the  mass  to  the  trunk-room,  where 
an  empty  and  unlocked  kit-bag  received  it  all. 

136 


INCOGNITO 

"  That,  I  think,  is  about  all." 

He  was  very  methodical,  this  criminal,  this  An- 
isty.  Nothing  essential  escaped  him.  He  rejoiced 
in  the  minutiae  of  detail  that  went  to  cover  up  his 
tracks  so  thoroughly  that  his  campaigns  were  as 
-remarkable  for  the  clues  he  did  leave  with  malicious 
design,  as  for  those  that  he  didn't. 

One  final  thing  held  his  attention:  a  bowl  of 
hammered  brass,  inverted  beneath  a  ponderous  book, 
upon  the  desk.  Why?  In  a  twinkling  he  had  re 
moved  both  and  was  studying  the  impression  of  a 
woman's  hand  in  the  dust,  and  nodding  over  it. 

"  That  girl,"  deduced  Anisty.  '•  Novice,  poor 
little  fool ! — or  she  wouldn't  have  wasted  time  search 
ing  here  for  the  jewels.  Good  looker,  though — 
from  what  little  he  " — with  a  glance  at  Maitland — 
"  gave  me  a  chance  to  see  of  her.  Seems  to  have 
snared  him,  all  right,  if  she  did  miss  the  haul.  .  •  . 
Little  idiot!  What  right  has  a  woman  in  this  busi 
ness,  anyway  ?  Well,  here's  one  thing  that  will  never 
land  me  in  the  pen." 

As,  with  nice  care,  he  replaced  both  bowl  and  book, 
137 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

a  door  slammed  below  stairs  took  him  to  the  hall 
in  an  instant.  Maitland's  Panama  was  hanging  on 
the  hat-rack,  Maitland's  collection  of  walking-sticks 
bristled  in  a  stand  beneath  it.  Anisty  appropriated 
the  former  and  chose  one  of  the  latter.  "  Fair  ex 
change,"  he  considered  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "  After 
all,  he  loses  nothing  .  .  .  but  the  jewels." 

He  was  out  and  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  just  as 
O'Hagan  reached  the  ground  floor  from  the  base 
ment. 

"  Ah,  O'Hagan !  "  The  assumption  of  Maitland's 
ironic  drawl  was  impeccable.  O'Hagan  no  more 
questioned  it  than  he  questioned  his  own  sanity. 
"  Here,  send  this  wire  at  once,  please ;  and,"  press 
ing  a  coin  into  the  ready  palm,  "  keep  the  change. 
I  was  hurried  and  didn't  bother  to  call  you.  And, 
I  say,  O'Hagan !  "  from  the  outer  door : 

«  Yissor." 

"  If  that  fellow  Snaith  ever  calls  again,  I'm  not  at 
home." 

"  Very  good,  sor." 

Anisty  permitted  himself  the  slightest  of  smiles, 
138 


INCOGNITO 

pausing  on  the  stoop  to  draw  on  the  chamois  gloves. 
As  he  did  so  his  eye  flickered  disinterestedly  over  the 
personality  of  a  man  standing  on  the  opposite  walk 
and  staring  at  the  apartment  house.  He  was  a  short 
man,  of  stoutish  habit,  sloppily  dressed,  with  a  derby 
pulled  down  over  one  eye,  a  cigar-butt  protruding 
arrogantly  from  beneath  a  heavy  black  mustache, 
beefy  cheeks,  and  thick-soled  boots  dully  polished. 

At  sight  of  him  the  thief  was  conscious  of  an  in 
ward  tremor,  followed  by  a  thrill  of  excitement  like 
a  wave  of  heat  sweeping  through  his  being.  Instan 
taneously  his  eyes  flashed;  then  were  dulled.  Imper 
turbable,  listless,  hall-marked  the  prey  of  ennui,  he 
waited,  undecided,  upon  the  stoop,  while  the  watcher 
opposite,  catching  sight  of  him,  abruptly  abandoned 
his  slouch  and  hastened  across  the  street. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  began  in  a  loud  tone,  while  yet  a 
dozen  feet  away,  "  but  ain't  this  Mr.  Maitland?  " 

Anisty  lifted  his  brows  and  shoulders  at  one  an'd 
the  same  time  and  bowed  slightly. 

"Well,  my  good  man?" 

"  I'm  a  detective  from  Headquarters,  Mr.  Mait- 
139 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

land.  We  got  a  'phone  from  Greenfields,  Long 
Island,  this  morning — from  the  local  police.  Your 
butler " 

"  Ah !  I  see ;  about  this  man  Anisty  ?  You  don't 
mean  to  tell  me — what?  I  shall  discharge  Higgins 
at  once.  Just  on  my  way  to  breakfast.  Won't 
you  join  me?  We  can  talk  this  matter  over  at 
our  leisure.  What  do  you  say  to  Eugene's?  It's 
handy,  and  I  dare  say  we  can  find  a  quiet  corner.  By 
the  way,  have  you  the  time  concealed  about  your 
person  ?  " 

Anisty  was  fumbling  in  his  fob-pocket  and  in 
wardly  cursing  himself  for  having  been  such  an  ass 
as  to  overlook  Maitland's  timepiece.  "  Deuced 
awkward ! "  he  muttered  in  genuine  annoyance. 
"  I've  mislaid  my  watch." 

"  It's  'most  one  o'clock,  Mr.  Maitland." 

Flattered,  the  man  from  Headquarters  dropped 
into  step  by  the  burglar's  side. 


140 


VI 

EUGENE'S  AT   TWO 

"  Since  we  don't  want  to  be  overheard,"  remarked 
Mr.  Anisty,  "  it's  no  use  trying  the  grill-room  down 
stairs,  although  I  admit  it  is  more  interesting." 

"  Just  as  yeh  say,  sir." 

Awed  and  awkward,  the  police  detective  stumbled 
up  the  steps  behind  his  imperturbable  guide ;  it  was  a 
great  honor,  in  his  eyes,  to  lunch  in  company  with  a 
"  swell."  Man  of  stodgy  common-sense  and  limited 
education  that  he  was,  the  glamour  of  the  Maitland 
millions  obscured  his  otherwise  clear  vision  com 
pletely.  And  uneasily  he  speculated  as  to  whether 
or  not  he  would  be  able  to  manipulate  correctly  the 
usual  display  of  knives  and  forks. 

An  obsequious  head-waiter  greeted  them,  bowing, 
in  the  lobby.  "  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Maitland,"  he 
murmured.  "  Table  for  two?  " 

"  Good  afternoon,"  responded  the  masquerader, 
141 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

with  an  assumed  abstraction,  inwardly  congratulat 
ing  himself  upon  having  hit  upon  a  restaurant  where 
the  real  Maitland  was  evidently  known.  There  were 
few  circumstances  which  he  could  not  turn  to  profit, 
fewer  emergencies  to  which  he  could  not  rise,  he  com 
plimented  Handsome  Dan  Anisty. 

"  A  table  for  two,"  he  drawled  Maitland-wise, 
"  In  a  corner  somewhere,  away  from  the  crowd,  you 
know." 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Maitland." 

"  By  the  way,"  suggested  the  burglar,  unfolding 

his  serviette  and  glancing  keenly  about  the  room, — 

which,  by  good  chance,  was  thinly  populated,  "  by 

the  way,  you  know,  you  haven't  told  me  your  name 

yet." 

"  Hickey — John  W.  Hickey,  Detective  Bureau." 
"  Thank  you."     A  languid  hand  pushed  the  pink 

menu  card  across  the  table  to  Mr.  Hickey.     "  And 

what  do  you  see  that  you'd  like?  " 

"  Well    .    .    ."  Hickey  became  conscious  that  both 

unwieldy  feet  were  nervously  twined  about  the  legs 

of  his  chair;  blushed;  disentangled  them;  and  in  an 

142 


EUGENE'S    AT    TWO 

attempt  to  cover  his  confusion,  plunged  madly  into 
consideration  of  a  column  of  table-d'hote  French, 
not  one  word  of  which  conveyed  the  slightest  particle 
of  information  to  his  intelligence. 

"  Well,"  he  repeated,  and  moistened  his  lips.  The 
room  seemed  suddenly  very  hot,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  an  obnoxious  electric  fan  was  sending  a 
current  of  cool  air  down  the  back  of  his  neck. 

"  I  ain't,"  he  declared  in  ultimate  desperation, 
"  hungry,  much.  Had  a  bite  a  little  while  back,  over 
to  the  Gilsey  House  bar." 

"  Would  a  little  drink ?  " 

"  Thanks.     I  don't  mind." 

"  Waiter,  bring  Mr.  Hickey  a  bottle  of  Number 
Seventy-two.  For  me — let  me  see — cafe  au  lait," 
with  a  grand  air,  "  and  rolls.  .  .  .  You  must 
remember  this  is  my  breakfast,  Mr.  Hickey.  I  make 
it  a  rule  never  to  drink  anything  for  six  hours  after 
rising."  Anisty  selected  a  cigarette  from  the  Mait- 
land  case,  lit  it,  and  contemplated  the  detective's 
countenance  with  a  winning  smile.  "  Now,  as  to  this 
Anisty  affair  last  night.  .  .  ." 

143 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Under  the  stimulus  of  the  champagne,  to  say 
naught  of  his  relief  at  having  evaded  the  ordeal  of 
the  cutlery,  Hickey  discoursed  variously  and  at 
length  upon  the  engrossing  subject  of  Anisty,  gen 
tleman-cracksman,  while  the  genial  counterpart  of 
Daniel  Maitland  listened  with  apparent  but  decep 
tive  apathy,  and  had  much  ado  to  keep  from  laugh 
ing  in  his  guest's  face  as  the  latter,  perspiringly  ear 
nest,  unfolded  his  plans  for  laying  the  burglar  by 
the  heels. 

From  time  to  time,  and  at  intervals  steadily  de 
creasing,  the  hand  of  the  host  sought  the  neck  of  the 
bottle,  inclining  it  carefully  above  the  thin-stemmed 
glass  that  Hickey  kept  in  almost  constant  motion. 
And  the  detective's  fatuous  loquacity  flowed  as  the 
contents  of  the  bottle  ebbed. 

Yet,  as  the  minutes  wore  on,  the  burglar  began  to 
be  conscious  that  it  was  but  a  shallow  well  of  infor 
mation  and  amusement  that  he  pumped.  The  game, 
fascinating  with  its  spice  of  daring  as  it  had  prima 
rily  been,  began  to  pall.  At  length  the  masquerader 
calculated  the  hour  as  ripe  for  what  he  had  contem- 

144 


EUGENE'S    AT    TWO 

plated  from  the  beginning;  and  interrupted  Ilickcy 
with  scant  consideration,  in  the  middle  of  a  most 
interesting  exposition. 

"  You'll  pardon  me,  I'm  sure,  if  I  trouble-  you 
again  for  the  time." 

The  fat  red  fingers  sought  uncertainly  for  the 
timepiece:  the  bottle  was  now  empty.  The  hour,  as 
announced,  was  ten  minutes  to  two. 

"  I've  an  engagement,"  invented  Anisty  plausibly, 

"  with  a  friend  at  two.  If  you'll  excuse  me ? 

Garfon,  ^addition!  " 

"  Then  I  und'stand,  Mister  Maitland,  we  c'n  count 
on  yeh?  " 

Anisty,  eyelids  drooping,  tipped  back  his  chair  a 
trifle  and  regarded  Hickey  with  a  fair  imitation  of 
the  whimsical  Maitland  smile.  "  Hardly,  I  think." 

"  Why  not?  "—truculently. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  have  three  excellent 
reasons.  The  first  should  be  sufficient:  I'm  too 
lazy." 

Disgruntled,  Hickey  stared  and  shook  a  disap 
proving  head.  "  I  was  afraid  of  that ;  yeh  swells 

145 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

don't  never  seem  to  think  nothin'  of  yer  duties  to 
soci'ty." 

Anisty  airily  waved  the  indictment  aside.  "  More 
over,  I  have  lost  nothing.  You  see,  I  happened  in 
just  at  the  right  moment;  our  criminal  friend  got 
nothing  for  his  pains.  The  jewels  are  safe.  Reason 
Number  Two :  Having  retained  my  property,  I  hold 
no  grudge  against  Anisty." 

"Well— Idunno " 

"And  as  for  reason  Number  Three:  I  don't  care 
to  have  this  affair  advertised.  If  the  papers  get  hold 
of  it  they'll  cook  up  a  lot  of  silly  details  that'll  excite 
the  cupidity  of  every  thief  in  the  country,  and  make 
me  more  trouble  than  I  care  to — ah — contem 
plate." 

Hickey's  eyes  glistened.  "  Of  course,  if  yeh  want 
it  kept  quiet "  he  suggested  significantly. 

Anisty's  hand  sought  his  pocket.     "  How  much?  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  can  leave  that  to  you.  Yeh 
oughttuh  know  how  bad  yeh  want  the  matter 
hushed." 

"  As  I  Calculate  it,  then,  fifty  ought  to  be  enough 
146 


EUGENE'S    AT    TWO 

for  the  boys ;  and  fifty  will  repay  you  for  your 
trouble." 

The  end  of  Rickey's  expensive  panetela  was  tilted 
independently  toward  the  ceiling.  "  Shouldn't  won 
der  if  it  would,"  he  murmured,  gratified. 

Anisty  stuffed  something  bulky  back  into  his 
pocket  and  wadded  another  something — green  and 
yellow  colored — into  a  little  pill,  which  he  presently 
flicked  carelessly  across  the  table.  The  detective's 
large  mottled  paw  closed  over  it  and  moved  toward 
his  waistcoat. 

"  As  I  was  sayin',"  he  resumed,  "  I'm  sorry  yeh 
don't  see  yer  way  to  givin'  us  a  hand.  But  p'rhaps 
yeh're  right.  Still,  if  the  citizens  'd  only  give  us  a 
hand  onct  in  a  while " 

"Ah,  but  what  gives  you  your  living,  Hickey?  " 
argued  the  amateur  sophist.  "  What  but  the  activi 
ties  of  the  criminal  element?  If  society  combined 
with  you  for  the  elimination  of  crime,  what  would 
become  of  your  job?  " 

He  rose  and  wrung  the  disconsolate  one  warmly  by 
the  hand.  "  But  there,  I  am  sorry  I  have  to  hurry 

147 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

you  away.  ...  Now  that  you  know  where  to 
find  me,  drop  in  some  evening  and  have  a  cigar  and 
a  chat.  I'm  in  town  a  good  deal,  off  and  on,  and 
always  glad  to  see  a  friend." 

At  another  time,  and  with  another  man,  Anisty 
would  not  have  ventured  to  play  his  catch  so  roughly ; 
but,  as  he  had  reckoned,  the  comfortable  state  of 
mind  induced  by  an  unexpected  addition  to  his  in 
come  and  a  quart  of  champagne,  had  dulled  the  offi 
cial  apprehensions  of  Sergeant  Hickey. 

Mumbling  a  vague  acceptance  of  the  too-genial 
invitation,  the  exalted  detective  rose  and  ambled 
cheerfully  down  the  room  and  out  of  the  door. 

Anisty  lit  another  cigarette  and  contemplated  the 
future  with  satisfaction.  As  a  diplomat  he  was  in 
clined  to  hold  himself  a  success.  Indeed,  all  things 
taken  under  mature  consideration,  the  conclusion  was 
inevitable  that  he  was  the  very  devil  of  a  fellow. 
With  what  consummate  skill  he  had  played  his  hand! 
Now  the  pursuit  of  the  Maitland  burglar  would  be 
abandoned;  the  news  item  suppressed  at  Headquar 
ters.  And  it  was  equally  certain  that  Maitland 

148 


EUGENE'S    AT    TWO 

(when  eventually  liberated)  would  be  at  pains  to  keep 
his  part  of  the  affair  very  much  in  shadow. 

The  masquerader  ventured  a  mystical  smile  at  the 
world  in  general.  One  pictured  the  evening  when 
the  infatuated  detective  should  find  it  convenient  to 
drop  in  on  the  exclusive  Mr.  Maitland.  .  .  . 

"Mr.  Anisty?" 


149 


vn 

ILLUMINATION 

In  a  breath  was  self-satisfaction  banished ;  simulta 
neously  the  masquerader  brought  his  gaze  down  from 
the  ceiling,  his  thoughts  to  earth,  his  vigilance  to 
the  surface,  and  himself  to  his  feet,  summoning  to 
his  aid  all  that  he  possessed  of  resource  and  expedient. 

Trapped! — the  word  blazed  incandescent  in  his 
brain.  So  long  had  he  foreseen  and  planned  against 
this  very  moment. 

Yet  panic  swayed  him  for  but  a  little  instant;  as 
swiftly  as  it  had  overcome  him  it  subsided,  leaving 
him  shocked,  a  shade  more  pale,  but  rapidly  reassert 
ing  control  of  his  faculties.  And  with  this  shade  of 
emotion  came  complete  reassurance. 

His  name  had  been  uttered  in  no  stern  or  menacing 
tone;  rather  its  syllables  had  been  pitched  in  a  low 
and  guarded  key,  with  an  undernote  of  raillery  and 
cordiality.  In  brief,  the  moment  that  he  recognized 

150 


ILLUMINATION 

the  voice  as  a  woman's,  he  was  again  master  of  him 
self,  and,  aware  that  the  result  of  his  instinctive  im 
pulse  to  rise  and  defend  himself,  which  had  brought 
him  to  a  standing  position,  would  be  interpreted  as 
only  the  natural  action  of  a  gentleman  addressed  by 
a  feminine  acquaintance,  he  was  confident  that  he 
had  not  betrayed  his  primal  consternation.  He 
bowed,  smiled,  and  with  eyes  in  which  astonishment 
swiftly  gave  place  to  gratification  and  complete  com 
prehension,  appraised  her  who  had  addressed  him. 

She  seemed  to  have  fluttered  to  the  table,  beside 
which  she  now  stood,  slightly  swaying,  her  walking 
costume  of  grey  shot  silk  falling  about  her  in  soft, 
tremulous  petals.  Dainty,  chic,  well-poised,  serene, 
flawlessly  pretty  in  her  miniature  fashion:  Anisty 
recognized  her  in  a  twinkling.  His  perceptions, 
trained  to  observations  as  instantaneous  as  those  of 
a  snap-shot  camera,  and  well-nigh  as  accurate,  had 
photographed  her  individuality  indelibly  upon  the 
film  of  his  memory,  even  in  the  abbreviated  encounter 
of  the  previous  night. 

By  a  similar  play  of  educated  reasoning  faculties 
151 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

keyed  to  the  highest  pitch  of  immediate  action,  he 
had  difficulty  as  scant  in  accounting  for  her  presence 
there.  What  he  did  not  quite  comprehend  was  why 
Maitland  had  used  her  so  kindly;  for  it  had  been 
plain  enough  that  that  gentleman  had  surprised  her 
in  the  act  of  safe-breaking  before  conniving  at  her 
escape.  But,  allowing  that  Maitland's  actions  had 
been  based  upon  motives  vague  to  the  burglar's  un 
derstanding,  it  was  quite  in  the  scheme  of  possibili 
ties  that  he  should  have  arranged  to  meet  his  pro 
tegee  at  the  restaurant  that  afternoon.  She  was 
come  to  keep  an  appointment  to  which  (now  that  An- 
isty  came  to  remember)  Maitland  had  alluded  in 
the  beginning  of  their  conversation. 

Well  and  good:  once  before,  within  the  past  two 
hours,  he  had  told  himself  that  he  was  Good-enough 
Maitland.  He  would  be  even  better  now.  .  .  . 

"  But  you  did  surprise  me !  "  he  declared  gallantly, 
before  she  could  wonder  at  his  slowness  to  respond. 
"  You  see,  I  was  dreaming  .  .  ." 

He  permitted  her  to  surmise  the  object  round 
which  his  dreams  had  been  v/oven. 

152 


ILLUMINATION 

"  And  I  had  expected  you  to  be  eagerly  watching 
for  me ! "  she  parried  archly. 

"  I  was  .  .  .  mentally.  But,"  he  warned  her 
seriously,  "  not  that  name.  Maitland  is  known  here: 
they  call  me  Maitland — the  waiters.  It  seems  I  made 
a  bad  choice.  But  with  your  assistance  and  discre 
tion  we  can  bluff  it  out,  all  right." 

"  I  forgot.  Forgive  me."  By  now  she  was  in  the 
chair  opposite  him,  tucking  the  lower  ends  of  her 
gloves  into  their  wrists. 

"  No  matter — nobody  heard." 

"  I  very  nearly  called  you  Handsome  Dan."  She 
flashed  a  radiant  smile  at  him  from  beneath  the  rim 
of  her  picture  hat. 

A  fire  was  kindled  in  Anisty's  eyes;  he  was  con 
scious  of  a  quickened  drumming  of  his  pulses. 

"  Dan  is  Maitland's  front  name,  also,"  he  re 
marked  absently. 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  she  responded,  quietly  spec 
ulative. 

The  burglar  hardly  heard.  It  has  been  indicated 
that  he  was  quick-witted,  because  he  had  to  be,  in  the 

153 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

very  nature  of  his  avocation.  Just  now  his  brain 
was  working  rather  more  rapidly  than  usual,  even: 
which  was  one  reason  why  the  light  had  leaped  into 
his  eyes. 

It  was  very  plain — to  a  deductive  reasoner — from 
the  girl's  attitude  toward  him  that  she  had  fallen 
into  relations  of  uncommon  friendliness  with  this 
Maitland,  young  as  Anisty  believed  their  acquaint 
ance  to  be.  There  had  plainly  been  a  flirtation — • 
wherein  lay  the  explanation  of  Maitland's  forbear 
ance:  he  had  been  fascinated  by  the  woman,  had  not 
hesitated  to  take  Anisty's  name  (even  as  Anisty  was 
then  taking  his)  in  order  to  prolong  their  intimacy. 

So  much  the  better.  Turn-about  was  still  fair 
play.  Maitland  had  sown  as  Anisty ;  the  real  Anisty 
would  reap  the  harvest.  Pretty  women  interested 
him  deeply,  though  he  saw  little  enough  of  them, 
partly  through  motives  of  prudence,  partly  because 
of  a  refinement  of  taste:  women  of  the  class  of  this 
conquest-by-proxy  were  out  of  reach  of  the  enemy 
of  society.  That  is,  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
This  one,  on  the  contrary,  was  not:  whatever  she 

154 


ILLUMINATION 

was  or  had  been,  however  successful  a  crackswoman 
she  might  be,  her  cultivation  and  breeding  were  as 
apparent  as  her  beauty ;  and  quite  as  attractive. 

A  criminal  is  necessarily  first  a  gambler,  a  votary 
of  Chance;  and  the  blind  goddess  had  always  been 
very  kind  to  Mr.  Anisty.  He  felt  thaf  here  again 
she  was  favoring  him.  Maitland  he  had  eliminated 
from  this  girl's  life ;  Maitland  had  failed  to  keep  his 
engagement,  and  so  would  never  again  be  called  upon 
to  play  the  part  of  burglar  with  her  interest  for  in 
centive  and  guerdon.  Anisty  himself  could  take  up 
where  Maitland  had  left  off.  Easily  enough.  The 
difficulties  were  insignificant:  he  had  only  to  play  up 
to  Maitland's  standard  for  a  while,  to  be  Maitland 
with  all  that  gentleman's  advantages,  educational  and 
social,  then  gradually  drop  back  to  his  own  level  and 
be  himself,  Dan  Anisty,  "  Handsome  Dan,"  the  pro 
fessional,  the  fit  mate  for  the  girl.  .  .  . 

What  was  she  saying? 

"  But  you  have  lunched  already ! "  with  an  appeal 
ing  pout. 

"  Indeed,  no !  "  he  protested  earnestly.  "  I  was 
155 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

early — conceive  my  eagerness ! — and  by  ill  chance  a 
friend  of  mine  insisted  upon  lunching  with  me.  I  had 
only  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll."  He  motioned  to 
the  waiter,  calling  him  "  Waiter !  "  rather  than  "  Gar- 

fon!  " intuitively  understanding  that  Maitland 

would  never  have  aired  his  French  in  a  public  place, 
and  that  he  could  not  afford  the  least  slip  before  a 
woman  as  keen  as  this. 

"  Lay  a  clean  cloth  and  bring  the  bill  of  fare,"  he 
demanded,  tempering  his  lordly  instincts  and  adding 
the  "  please  "  that  men  of  Maitland's  stamp  use  to 
inferiors. 

"  A  friend !  "  tardily  echoed  the  girl  when  the  serv 
ant  was  gone. 

He  laughed  lightly,  determined  to  be  frank.  "  A 
detective,  in  point  of  fact,"  said  he.  And  enjoyed 
her  surprise. 

"  You  have  many  such  ?  " 

"For  convenience  one  tries  to  have  one  in  each 
city." 

"  And  this ?  " 

•"Oh,  I  have  him  fixed,  all  right.  He  confided  to 
156 


ILLUMINATION 

me  all  the  latest  developments  and  official  intentions 
with  regard  to  the  Maitland  arrest." 

Her  eyes  danced.  "  Tell  me !  "  she  demanded,  im 
perious:  the  emphasis  of  intimacy  irresistible  as  she 
bent  forward,  forearms  on  the  cloth,  slim  white 
hands  clasped  with  tense  impatience,  eyes  seeking 
his. 

"  Why     ...     of  course  Maitland  escaped." 

"No!" 

"  Fact.  Scared  the  butler  into  ungagging  him ; 
then,  in  a  fit  of  pardonable  rage,  knocked  that  fool 
down  and  dashed  out  of  the  window — presumably  in 
pursuit  of  us.  Up  to  a  late  hour  he  hadn't  returned, 
and  police  opinion  is  divided  as  to  whether  Maitland 
arrested  Anisty,  and  Anisty  got  away,  or  vice  versa." 

"  Excellent !  "  She  clasped  her  hands  noiselessly, 
a  gay  little  gesture. 

"  So,  whatever  the  outcome,  one  thing  is  certain : 
Higgins  will  presently  be  seeking  another  berth." 

She  lifted  her  brows  prettily.  "Higgins?" — 
with  the  rising  inflection. 

"  The  butler.    Didn't  you  hear ?  " 

157 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Eyes  wondering,  she  moved  her  head  slowly  from 
side  to  side.  "  Hear  what?  " 

"  I  fancied  that  you  had  waited  a  moment  on  the 
veranda,"  he  finessed. 

"  Oh,  I  was  quite  too  frightened.     .     .     ." 

He  took  this  for  a  complete  denial.  Better  and 
better !  He  had  actually  feared  that  she  had  eaves 
dropped,  however  warrantably;  and  Maitland's 
authoritative  way  with  the  servants  had  been  too 
convincingly  natural  to  have  deceived  a  woman  of 
her  keen  wits. 

There  followed  a  lull  while  Anisty  was  ordering 
the  luncheon :  something  he  did  elaborately  and  with 
success,  telling  himself  humorously :  "  Hang  the  ex 
pense!  Maitland  pays."  Of  which  fact  the  weight 
in  his  pocket  was  assurance. 

Maitland.  .  .  .  Anisty's  thoughts  verged  off 
upon  an  interesting  tangent.  What  was  Maitland's 
motive  in  arranging  this  meeting?  It  was  self-evi 
dent  that  the  twain  were  of  one  world — the  girl  and 
the  man  of  fashion.  But,  whatever  her  right  of 
heritage,  she  had  renounced  it,  declassing  herself  by 

158 


ILLUMINATION 

yielding  to  thievish  instincts,  voluntarily  placing 
herself  on  the  level  of  Anisty.  Where  she  must  re 
main,  for  ever. 

There  was  comfort  ?•*  that  reflection.  He  glanced 
up  to  find  her  eyes  bent  in  gravity  upon  him.  She, 
too,  it  appeared,  had  fallen  a  prey  to  reverie.  Upon 
what  subject?  An  absorbing  one,  doubtless,  since  it 
held  her  abstracted  despite  her  companion's  direct, 
unequivocally  admiring  stare. 

The  odd  light  was  flickering  again  in  the  cracks 
man's  glance.  She  was  then  more  beautiful  than 

aught  that  ever  he  had  dreamed  of.     Such  hair  as 

% 
was  hers,  woven  seemingly  of  dull  flames,  lambent, 

witching !  And  eyes  ! — beautiful  always,  but  never 
more  so  than  at  this  moment,  when  filled  with  sweetly 
pensive  contemplation.  .  .  .  Was  she  reviewing 
the  last  twenty-four  hours,  dreaming  of  what  had 
passed  between  her  and  that  silly  fool,  Maitland?  If 
only  Anisty  could  surmise  what  they  had  said  to  each 
other,  how  long  they  had  been  acquainted;  if  only 
she  would  give  him  a  hint,  a  leading  word !  .  .  . 
If  he  could  have  read  her  mind,  have  seen  behind 
159 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

the  film  of  thought  that  clouded  her  eyes,  one  fears 
Mr.  Anisty  might  have  lost  appetite  for  an  excellent 
luncheon. 

For  she  was  studying  his  hands,  her  memory  hark 
ing  back  to  the  moment  when  she  had  stood  beside 
the  safe,  holding  the  bull's-eye. 

In  the  blackness  of  that  hour  a  disk  of  light  shone 
out  luridly  against  the  tapestry  of  memory.  Within 
its  radius  appeared  two  hands,  long,  supple,  strong, 
immaculately  white,  graceful  and  dexterous,  as  deli 
cate  of  contour  as  a  woman's,  yet  lacking  nothing  of 
masculine  vigor  and  modeling;  hands  that  wavered 
against  the  blackness,  fumbling  with  the  shining 
nickeled  disk  of  a  combination-lock.  .  .  .  The 
impression  had  been  and  remained  one  extraordi 
narily  vivid.  Could  her  eyes  have  deceived  her 
so?  .  .  . 

"Thoughtful?" 

She  nodded  alertly,  instantaneously  mistress  of 
self ;  and  let  her  gaze,  serious  yet  half  smiling,  linger 
upon  his  the  exact  fractional  shade  of  an  instant 
longer  than  had  been,  perhaps,  discreet.  Then  lashes 

160 


ILLUMINATION 

drooped  long  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  color  deep 
ened  all  but  imperceptibly. 

The  man's  breath  halted,  then  came  a  trace  more 
rapidly  than  before.  He  bent  forward  impulsively. 
The  girl  sighed,  ever  so  gently. 

"  I  was  thoughtful.  .  .  .  It's  all  so  strange, 
you  know." 

His  attitude  was  an  eager  question. 

"  I  mean  our  meeting — that  way,  last  night."  She 
held  his  gaze  again,  momentarily,  and 

"  Damn  the  waiter !  "  quoth  savagely  Mr.  Anisty 
to  his  inner  man,  sitting  back  to  facilitate  the  service 
of  their  meal. 

The  girl  placated  him  with  an  insignificant  remark 
which  led  both  into  a  maze  of  meaningless  but  infi 
nitely  diverting  inconsequences ;  diverting,  at  least, 
to  Anisty,  who  held  up  his  head,  giving  her  back 
look  for  look,  jest  for  jest,  platitude  for  platitude 
(when  the  waiter  was  within  hearing  distance): 
altogether,  he  felt,  acquitting  himself  very  cred 
itably.  .  .  . 

As  for  the  girl,  in  the  course  of  the  next  half  or 
161 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

three-quarters  of  an  hour  she  demonstrated  herself 
conclusively  a  person  of  amazing  resource,  develop 
ing  with  admirable  ingenuity  a  campaign  planned  on 
the  spur  of  a  chance  observation.  The  gentle  man 
nered  and  self-sufficient  crook  was  taken  captive  be 
fore  he  realized  it,  however  willing  he  may  have  been. 
Enmeshed  in  a  hundred  uncomprehended  subtleties, 
he  basked,  purring,  the  while  she  insinuated  herself 
beneath  his  guard  and  stripped  him  of  his  entire 
armament  of  cunning,  vigilance,  invention,  suspicion, 
and  distrust. 

He  relinquished  them  without  a  sigh,  barely  con 
scious  of  the  spoliation.  After  all,  she  was  of  his 
trade,  herself  mired  with  guilt ;  she  would  never  dare 
betray  him,  the  consequences  to  herself  would  be  so 
dire. 

Besides,  patently, — almost  too  much  so, — she 
admired  him.  He  was  her  hero.  Had  she  not  more 
than  hinted  that  such  was  the  case,  that  his  example, 
his  exploits,  had  fired  her  to  emulation — however 
weakly  feminine?  .  .  .  He  saw  her  before  him, 
dainty,  alluring,  yielding,  yet  leading  him  on:  alto- 

162 


He  saw  her  before  him,  dainty,  alluring      Page  162 


ILLUMINATION 

gether    desirable.      And    so    long    had    he,    Anisty, 
starved  for  affection !     .     .     . 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  be  dying  for  a  smoke." 

"  Beg  pardon !  "  He  awoke  abruptly,  to  find  him 
self  twirling  the  sharp-ribbed  stem  of  his  empty 
glass.  Abstractedly  he  stared  into  this,  as  though 
seeking  there  a  clue  to  what  they  had  been  talking 
about.  Hazily  he  understood  that  they  had  been 
drifting  close  upon  the  perilous  shoals  of  intimate 
personalities.  What  had  he  told  her?  What  had 
he  not? 

No  matter.  It  was  clearly  to  be  seen  that  her 
regard  for  him  had  waxed  rather  than  waned  as  a 
result  of  their  conversation.  One  had  but  to  look  into 
her  eyes  to  be  reassured  as  to  that.  One  did  look, 
breathing  heavily.  .  .  .  What  an  ingenuous 
child  it  was,  to  show  him  her  heart  so  freely!  He 
wondered  that  this  should  be  so,  feeling  it  none  the 
less  a  just  and  graceful  tribute  to  his  fascina 
tions. 

She  repeated  her  arch  query.  She  was  sure  he 
wanted  to  smoke. 

163 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Indeed  he  did — if  she  would  permit?  And  forth 
with  Maitland's  cigarette  case  was  produced,  with  a 
flourish. 

"  What  a  beautiful  case ! " 

In  an  instant  it  was  in  her  hands.  "  Beautiful !  " 
she  iterated,  inspecting  the  delicate  tracery  of  the 
monogram  engraver's  art — head  bended  forward, 
face  shaded  by  the  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"  You  like  it?  You  would  care  to  own  it?  "  Anisty 
demanded  unsteadily. 

"  I?  "  The  inflection  of  doubtful  surprise  was  a 
delight  to  the  ear.  "Oh!  .  .  .  I  couldn't  think 
of  accepting.  •  .  .  Besides,  I  have  no  use 
for  it." 

"  Of  course  you  ain't — are  not  that  sort."  An 
hour  back  he  could  have  kicked  himself  for  the  gram 
matical  blunder ;  now  he  was  wholly  illuded ;  besides, 
she  didn't  seem  to  notice.  "  But  as  a  little  token — 
between  us " 

She  drew  back,  pushing  the  case  across  the  cloth; 
"  I  couldn't  dream.  .  .  ." 

"  But  if  I  insist ?  " 


ILLUMINATION 

"If  you  insist?  .  .  .  Why  I  suppose  .  .  . 
it's  awfully  good  of  you."  She  flashed  him  a  mad 
dening  glance. 

"  You  do  me  pro  —  honor,"  he  amended  hastily. 
Then,  daringly  :  "  I  don't  ask  much  in  exchange, 


"  A  cigarette  ?  "  she  suggested  hastily. 

He  laughed,  pleased  and  diverted.  "  That'll  be 
enough  now  —  if  you'll  light  it  for  me." 

She  glanced  dubiously  round  the  now  almost  de 
serted  room;  and  a  waiter  started  forward  as  if 
animated  by  a  spring.  Anisty  motioned  him  im 
periously  back.  "  Go  on,"  he  coaxed  ;  "  no  one  can 
see."  And  watched,  flattered,  the  slim  white  fingers 
that  extracted  a  match  from  the  stand  and  drew  it 
swiftly  down  the  prepared  surface  of  the  box,  hold 
ing  the  flickering  flame  to  the  end  of  a  white  tube 
whose  tip  lay  between  lips  curved,  scarlet,  and 
pouting. 

"  There  !  "  A  pale  wraith  of  smoke  floated  away 
on  the  fan-churned  air,  and  Anisty  was  vaguely  con 
scious  of  receiving  the  glowing  cigarette  from  a 

165 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hand  whose  sheer  perfection  was  but  enhanced  by  the 
ripe  curves  of  a  rounded  forearm.  .  .  »  He 
inhaled  deeply,  with  satisfaction. 

Undetected  by  him,  the  girl  swiftly  passed  a  fur 
tive  handkerchief  across  her  lips.  When  he  looked 
again  she  was  smiling  and  the  golden  case  had 
disappeared. 

She  shook  her  head  at  him  in  mock  reproval. 
"  Bold  man ! "  she  called  him ;  but  the  crudity  of 
it  was  lost  upon  him,  as  she  had  believed  it  would 
be.  The  moment  had  come  for  vigorous  measures, 
she  felt,  guile  having  paved  the  way. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  that?  " 

"  To  appear  so  openly,  running  the  gauntlet  of 
the  detectives.  .  .  ." 

"  Eh?  "—startled. 

"  Of  course  you  saw,"  she  insisted. 

"Saw?     No.     Saw  what?" 

"  Why.  .  .  .  perhaps  I  am  mistaken,  but  I 
thought  you  knew  and  trusted  to  your  likeness  to 
Mr.  Maitland.  .  .  ." 

Anisty  frowned,  collecting  himself,  bewildered. 
166 


ILLUMINATION 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  anyhow?  "  he  demanded 
roughly. 

"  Didn't  you  see  the  detectives?  I  should  have 
thought  your  man  would  have  warned  you.  I 
noticed  four  loitering  round  the  entrance,  as  I  came 
in,  and  feared  .  .  ." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  then?  " 

"I  have  just  told  you  the  reason.  I  supposed 
you  were  in  your  disguise.  ,  .  ." 

"That's  so."  The  alarmed  expression  gradually 
faded,  though  he  remained  troubled.  "I  sure  am 
Maitland  to  the  life,"  he  continued  with  satisfaction. 
"Even  the  head-waiter " 

"And  of  course, "  she  insinuated  delicately,  "you 
have  disposed  of  the  loot?  " 

He  shook  his  head  gloomily.      "No  time,  as  yet." 

Her  dismay  was  evident.  "You  don't  mean  to 
say ?  " 

"  In  my  pocket." 

"Oh!"  She  glanced  stealthily  around.  "In 
your  pocket !  "  she  whispered.  "  And — and  if  they 

stopped  you " 

167 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  I  am  Maitland." 

"  But  if  they  insisted  on  searching  you.  .  .  ." 
She  was  round-eyed  with  apprehension. 

"  That's  so !  "  Her  perturbation  was  infectious. 
His  jaw  dropped. 

"  They  would  find  the  jewels — known  to  be 
stolen " 

"  By  God !  "  he  cried  savagely. 

"  Dan ! " 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon.  But  .  •  .  what  am 
I  to  do?  You  are  sure ?  " 

"  McClusky  himself  is  on  the  nearest  corner ! " 

"  Phew!  "  he  whistled ;  and  stared  at  her,  search- 
ingly,  through  a  lengthening  pause. 

"  Dan     .     .     ."  said  she  at  length. 

"Yes?" 

"  There  is  a  way.     .     .     ." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Last  night,  Dan  " — she  raised  her  glorious  eyes 
to  his — "  last  night,  I  ...  I  trusted  you." 

His  face  hardened  ever  so  slightly;  yet  when  he 
took  thought  the  tense  lines  about  his  eyes  and 

168 


ILLUMINATION 

mouth  softened.  And  she  drew  a  deep  breath,  know 
ing  that  she  had  all  but  won. 

"  I  trusted  you,"  she  continued  softly.  "  Do  you 
know  what  that  means?  I  trusted  you." 

He  nodded,  eyes  to  hers,  fascinated,  with  an  odd 
commingling  of  fear  and  hope  and  satisfied  self- 
love.  "  Now  I  am  unconnected  with  the  affair.  No 
one  knows  that  I  had  any  hand  in  it.  Besides,  no 
one  knows  me — that  I — steal."  Her  tone  fell  lower. 
"  The  police  have  never  heard  of  me.  Dan !  " 

"  I— believe " 

"  I  could  get  away,"  she  interrupted ;  "  and  then, 
if  they  stopped  you " 

"  You're  right,  by  the  powers !  "  He  struck  the 
table  smartly  with  his  fist.  "  You  do  that  and  we 
can  carry  this  through.  Why,  lacking  the  jewels, 
I  am  Maitland — I  am  even  wearing  Maitland's 
clothes ! "  he  boasted.  "  I  went  to  his  apartments 
this  morning  and  saw  to  that,  because  it  suited  my 
purpose  to  be  Maitland  for  a  day  or  two." 

"  Then ?  "     Her  gaze  questioned  his. 

"  Waiter ! "  cried  Anisty.  And,  when  the  man 
169 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

was  deferential  at  his  elbow :  "  Call  a  cab,  at  once, 
please." 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

The  rest  of  the  corps  of  servants  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  big  room.  Anisty  made  certain  that  they 
were  not  watching,  then  stealthily  passed  the  canvas 
bag  to  the  girl.  She  bent  her  head,  bestowing  it  in 
her  hand-bag. 

"  You  have  made  me  ...  happy,  Dan," 
came  tremulously  from  beneath  the  hat-brim. 

Whatever  doubts  may  have  assailed  him  when  it 
was  too  late,  by  that  remark  were  effaced,  silenced. 
Who  could  mistrust  her  sincerity?  .... 

"  Then  when  and  where  may  I  see  you  again  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"  The  same  place." 

It  was  a  bold  move ;  but  she  was  standing ;  the 
waiter  was  back,  announcing  the  cab  in  waiting,  and 
he  dared  not  protest.  Yet  his  pat  riposte  com 
manded  her  admiration. 

"  No.  Too  risky.  If  they  are  watching  here, 
they  may  be  there,  too."  He  shook  his  head  de- 

170 


ILLUMINATION 

cidcdlj.  The  flicker  of  doubt  was  again  extin 
guished;  for  undoubtedly  Maitland  had  escorted  her 
home  that  morning;  her  reference  had  been  to  that 
place.  "  Somewhere  else,"  he  insisted,  confident  that 
she  was  playing  fair. 

She  appeared  to  think  for  an  instant,  then,  fum 
bling  in  her  pocket-book,  extracted  a  typical  femi 
nine  pencil  stub, — its  business-end  looking  as  though 
it  had  been  gnawed  by  a  vindictive  rat, — and  scrib 
bled  hastily  on  the  back  of  a  menu  card: 

"Mrs.  McCabe,  %05  West  118th  Street.  Top 
•floor.  Ring  3  tirrws." 

"  I  shall  be  there  at  seven,"  she  told  him.  "  You 
won't  fail  me?  " 

"  Not  if  I'm  still  at  liberty,"  he  laughed. 

And  the  waiter  smiled  at  discretion,  a  far-away 
and  unobtrusive  smile  that  could  by  no  possibility 
give  offense;  at  the  same  time  it  was  calculated  to 
convey  the  impression  that,  in  the  opinion  of  one 
humble  person,  at  least,  Mr.  Maitland  was  a  merry 
wag. 

171 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Good-by     .     .     •     Dan ! " 

Anisty  held  her  fingers  in  his  hard  palm  for  an 
instant,  rising  from  his  chair. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear,"  he  said  clumsily. 

He  watched  her  disappear,  eyes  humid,  temples 
throbbing.  "  By  the  powers  1 "  he  cried.  "  But  she's 

worth  it!" 

Perhaps  his  meaning  was  vague,  even  to  himself. 
He  resumed  his  seat  mechanically  and  sat  for  a  time 
staring  dreamily  into  vacancy,  blunt  fingers  drum 
ming  on  the  cloth. 

"No,"  he  declared  at  length.  "No;  I'm  safe 
enough  ...  in  her  hands." 

Once  secure  from  the  public  gaze,  the  girl  crowded 
back  into  a  corner  of  the  cab,  as  though  trying  to 
efface  herself.  Her  eyes  closed  almost  automatic 
ally;  the  curve  of  laughing  lips  became  a  doleful 
droop ;  a  crinkle  appeared  between  the  arched  brows ; 
waves  of  burning  crimson  flooded  her  face  and  throat. 

In  her  lap  both  hands  lay  clenched  into  tiny  fists- 
clenched  so  tightly  that  it  hurt,  numbing  her  fingers: 

m 


ILLUMINATION 

a  physical  pain  that,  somehow,  helped  her  to  endure 
the  paroxysms  of  shame.  That  she  should  have 
stooped  so  low!  .... 

Presently  the  fingers  relaxed,  and  her  whole  frame 
relaxed  in  sympathy.  The  black  squall  had  passed 
over;  but  now  were  the  once  tranquil  waters  ruffled 
and  angry.  Then  languor  gripped  her  like  an 
enemy :  she  lay  listless  in  its  hold,  sick  and  faint  with 
disgust  of  self. 

This  was  her  all-sufficient  punishment:  to  have 
done  what  she  had  done,  to  be  about  to  do  what  she 
contemplated.  For  she  had  set  her  hand  to  the 
plow :  there  must  now  be  no  drawing  back,  however 
hateful  might  prove  her  task.  .  .  . 

The  voice  of  the  cabby  dropping  through  the  trap, 
roused  her.  "  This  is  the  Martha  Washington, 
ma'am." 

Mechanically  she  descended  from  the  hansom  and 
paid  her  fare;  then,  summoning  up  all  her  strength 
and  resolution,  passed  into  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  and 
paused  at  the  telephone  switchboard. 


173 


VIII 

DANCE     OF    THE    HOURS 

Four  p.  M. 

The  old  clock  in  a  corner  of  the  study  chimed  res 
onantly  and  with  deliberation:  four  double  strokes; 
and  while  yet  the  deep-throated  music  was  dying  into 
silence  the  telephone  bell  shrieked  impertinently. 

Maitland  bit  savagely  on  the  gag  and  knotted  his 
brows,  trying  to  bear  it.  The  effect  was  that  of 
a  coarse  file  rasped  across  raw  quivering  nerves. 
And  he  lay  helpless,  able  to  do  no  more  toward 
endurance  than  to  dig  nails  deep  into  his  palms. 

Again  and  again  the  fiendish  clamor  shattered  the 
echoes.  Blinding  flashes  of  agony  danced  down  the 
white-hot  wires  strung  through  his  head,  taut  from 
temple  to  temple. 

Would  the  fool  at  the  other  end  never  be  satis 
fied  that  he  could  get  no  answer?  Evidently  not: 
the  racket  continued  mercilessly,  short  series  of  shrill 

174 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

calls  alternating  with  imperative  rolls  prolonged  until 
one  thought  that  the  tortured  metal  sounding-cups 
would  crack.  Thought !  nay,  prayed  that  either 
such  would  be  the  case,  or  else  that  one's  head  might 
at  once  mercifully  be  rent  asunder.  .  .  . 

That  anguish  so  exquisite  should  be  the  means  of 
releasing  him  from  his  bonds  seemed  a  refinement  of 
irony.  Yet  Maitland  was  aware,  between  spasms, 
that  help  was  on  the  way.  The  telephone  instru 
ment,  for  obvious  convenience,  had  been  equipped 
with  an  extension  bell  which  rang  simultaneously  in 
O'Hagan's  quarters.  When  Maitland  was  not  at 
home  the  janitor-valet,  so  warned,  would  answer  the 
calls.  And  now,  in  the  still  intervals,  the  heavy  thud 
of  unhurried  feet  could  be  heard  upon  the  staircase. 
O'Hagan  was  coming  to  answer ;  and  taking  his  time 
about  it.  It  seemed  an  age  before  the  rattle  of 
pass-key  in  latch  announced  him;  and  another  ere, 
all  unconscious  of  the  figure  supine  on  the  divan 
against  the  further  study  wall,  the  old  man  shuffled 
to  the  instrument,  lifted  receiver  from  the  hook,  and 
applied  it  to  his  ear. 

175 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"Well,  well?"  he  demanded  with  that  impatience 
characteristic  of  the  illiterate  for  modern  methods  of 
communication.  "  Pwhat  the  divvle  ails  ye?  " 

"  Rayspicts  to  ye,  ma'am,  and  'tis  sorry  I  am  I 
didn't  know  'twas  a  leddy." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  He's  not." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Wan  o'clock,  there  or  thereabouts." 

.  .  .  •  • 

"  Faith  and  he  didn't  say." 

•  •  .  •  • 
"  Pwhat  name  will  I  be  tellin'  him?  " 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Kape    ut   to    yersilf ,    thin.     'Tis    none    of    me 

business." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  If  ye  do,  I'll  not  answer.  Sure,  am  I  to  be 
climbin'  two  flights  av  sthairs  iv'ry  f  oive  minits " 

"  Good-by  yersilf,"  hanging  up  the  receiver. 
"  And  the  divvle  fly  away  wid  ye,"  grumbled 
O'Hagan. 

As  he  turned  away  from  the  instrument  Maitland 
176 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

managed  to  produce  a  sound,  something  between  a 
moan  and  a  strangled  cough.  The  old  man  whirled 
on  his  heel.  "  Pwhat's  thot?" 

The  next  instant  he  was  bending  over  Maitland, 
peering  into  the  face  drawn  and  disfigured  by  the 
gag.  "  The  saints  presarve  us !  And  who  the  divvle 
are  ye  at  all?  Pwhy  don't  ye  spake?  " 

Maitland  turred  purple;  and  emitted  a  furious 
snort. 

"  Misther  Maitland,  be  all  thot's  strange !  .  .  . 
Is  ut  mad  I  am?  Or  how  did  ye  get  back  here  and 
into  this  fix,  sor,  and  me  swapin'  the  halls  and 
polishin'  the  brasses  fernist  the  front  dure  iv'ry 
minute  since  ye  wint  out?  " 

Indignation  struggling  for  the  upper  hand  with 
mystification  in  the  Irishman's  brain,  he  grumbled 
and  swore;  yet  busied  his  fingers.  In  a  trice  the 
binding  gag  was  loosed,  and  ropes  and  straps  cast 
free  from  swollen  wrists  and  ankles.  And,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  kindly  arm  behind  his  shoulders,  Mait 
land  sat  up,  grinning  with  the  pain  of  renewing  cir 
culation  in  his  limbs. 

177 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Wid  these  two  oies  mesilf  saw  ye  lave  three  hours 
gone,  sor,  and  I  c'u'd  swear  no  sowl  had  intered  this 
house  since  thin.  Pwhat  does  ut  all  mane,  be  all 
thot's  holy?" 

"  It  means,"  panting,  "  brandy  and  soda,  O'Hagan, 
and  be  quick." 

Maitland  attempted  to  rise,  but  his  legs  gave  under 
him,  and  he  sank  back  with  a  stifled  oath,  resigning 
himself  to  wait  the  return  of  normal  conditions.  As 
for  his  head,  it  was  threatening  to  split  at  any  mo 
ment,  the  tight  wires  twanging  infernally  between 
his  temples;  while  the  corners  of  his  mouth  were 
cracked  and  sore  from  the  pressure  of  the  gag.  All 
of  which  totted  up  a  considerable  debit  against  Mr. 
Anisty's  account. 

For  Maitland,  despite  his  suffering,  had  found 
time  to  figure  it  out  to  his  personal  satisfaction — or 
dissatisfaction,  if  you  prefer — in  the  interval  between 
his  return  to  consciousness  and  the  arrival  of 
O'Hagan.  It  was  simple  enough  to  deduce  from  the 
knowledge  in  his  possession  that  the  burglar,  having 
contrived  his  escape  through  the  disobedience  of  Hig- 

178 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

gins,  should  have  engineered  this  complete  revenge 
for  the  indignity  Maitland  had  put  upon  him. 

How  he  had  divined  the  fact  of  the  jewels  remain 
ing  in  their  owner's  possession  was  less  clear ;  and  yet 
it  was  reasonable,  after  all,  to  presume  that  Maitland 
should  prefer  to  hold  his  own.  Possibly  Anisty  had 
seen  the  girl  slip  the  canvas  bag  into  Maitland's 
pocket  while  the  latter  was  kneeling  and  binding  his 
captive.  However  that  was,  there  was  no  denying 
that  he  had  trailed  the  treasure  to  its  hiding-place, 
unerringly;  and  succeeded  in  taking  possession  of 
it  with  consummate  skill  and  audacity.  When 
Maitland  came  to  think  of  it,  he  recalled  distinctly 
the  trend  of  the  burglar's  inquisition  in  the  char 
acter  of  "  Mr.  Snaith,"  which  had  all  been  calculated 
to  discover  the  location  of  the  jewels.  And,  when 
he  did  recall  this  fact,  and  how  easily  he  had  been 
duped,  Maitland  could  have  ground  his  teeth  in  melo 
dramatic  rage — but  for  the  circumstance  that  when 
first  it  occurred  to  him,  such  a  feat  was  a  physical 
impossibility,  and  even  when  ungagged  the  operation 
would  have  been  painful  to  an  extreme. 

X79 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Sipping  the  grateful  drink  which  O'Hagan  pres 
ently  brought  him,  the  young  man  pondered  the  case ; 
with  no  pleasure  in  the  prospect  he  foresaw.  If 
Higgins  had  actually  communicated  the  fact  of 
Anisty's  escape  to  the  police,  the  entire  affair  was 
like  to  come  out  in  the  papers, — all  of  it,  that  is, 
that  he  could  not  suppress.  But  even  figuring  that 
he  could  silence  Higgins  and  O'Hagan, — no  difficult 
task:  though  he  might  be  somewhat  late  with  Hig 
gins, — the  most  discreet  imaginable  explanation  of 
his  extraordinary  conduct  would  make  him  the  laugh 
ing  stock  of  his  circle  of  friends,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  city  that  had  been  accustomed  to  speak  of  him  as 
"  Mad  Maitland,"  for  many  a  day.  Unless  .  .  . 

Ah,  he  had  it!  He  could  pretend  (so  long  as  it 
suited  his  purpose,  at  all  events),  to  have  been  the 
man  caught  and  left  bound  in  Higgins'  care.  Sim 
ple  enough:  the  knocking  over  of  the  butler  would 
be  ascribed  to  a  natural  ebullition  of  indignation,  the 
subsequent  flight  to  a  hare-brained  notion  of  running 
down  the  thief.  And  yet  even  that  explanation  had  its 
difficulties.  How  was  he  to  account  for  the  fact  that 

180 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

he  had  failed  to  communicate  with  the  police — know 
ing  that  his  treasure  had  been  ravished? 

It  was  all  very  involved.  Mr.  Maitland  returned 
the  glass  to  O'Hagan  and,  cradling  his  head  in  his 
hands,  racked  his  brains  in  vain  for  a  satisfactory 
tale  to  tell.  There  were  so  many  things  to  be 
taken  into  consideration.  There  was  the  girl  in 
grey  .  ..^  ; 

Not  that  he  had  forgotten  her  for  an  instant; 
his  fury  raged  but  the  higher  at  the  thought  that 
Anisty's  interference  had  prevented  his  (Maitland's) 
keeping  the  engagement.  Doubtless  the  girl  had 
waited,  then  gone  away  in  anger,  believing  that  the 
man  in  whom  she  had  placed  faith  had  proved  him 
self  unworthy.  And  so  he  had  lost  her  for  ever,  in 
all  likelihood:  they  would  never  meet  again.  .  .  . 

But  that  telephone  call? 

"  O'Hagan,"  demanded  the  haggard  and  dis 
traught  young  man,  "  who  was  that  on  the  wire  just 
now?" 

Being  a  thoroughly  trained  servant,  O'Hagan  had 
waited  that  question  in  silence,  a-quiver  with  im- 

181 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

patience  though  he  was.  Now,  his  tongue  unleashed, 
his  words  fairly  stumbled  on  one  another's  heels  in 
his  anxiety  to  get  them  out  in  the  least  possible  time. 
"  Sure,  an'  'twas  a  leddy,  sor,  be  the  v'ice  av  her, 
askin'  were  ye  in,  and  mesilf  havin'  seen  ye  go  out  no 
longer  ago  thin  wan  o'clock  and  yersilf  sayin'  not  a 
worrud  about  comin'  back  at  all  at  all,  pwhat  was  I 
to  be  tellin'  her,  aven  if  ye  were  lyin'  there  on  the  die- 
van  all  unbeknownest  to  me,  which  the  same  mesilf 

can  not " 

"  Help ! "  pleaded  the  young  man  feebly,  smiling. 
"  One  thing  at  a  time,  please,  O'Hagan.  Answer  me 
one  question:  Did  she  give  a  name?  " 

"  She  did  not,  sor,  though  mesilf " 

"There,  there!  Wait  a  bit.  I  want  to  think." 
Of  course  she  had  given  no  name;  it  wouldn't  be 
like  her.  .  .  .  What  was  he  thinking  of,  any 
way?  It  could  not  have  been  the  grey  girl;  for 
she  knew  him  only  as  Anisty;  she  could  never  have 
thought  him  himself,  Maitland.  .  .  .  But  what 
other  woman  of  his  acquaintance  did  not  believe  him 
to  be  out  of  town? 

182 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

With  a  hopeless  gesture,  Maitland  gave  it  up,  con 
ceding  the  mystery  too  deep  for  him,  his  intellect 
too  feeble  to  grapple  with  all  its  infinite  ramifications. 
The  counsel  he  had  given  O'Hagan  seemed  most  ap 
propriate  to  his  present  needs :  One  thing  at  a  time. 
And  obviously  the  first  thing  that  lay  to  his  hand  was 
the  silencing  of  O'Hagan. 

Maitland  rallied  his  wits  to  the  task.  "  O'Hagan," 
said  he,  "  this  man,  Snaith,  who  was  here  this  after 
noon,  called  himself  a  detective.  As  soon  as  we  were 
alone  he  rapped  me  over  the  head  with  a  loaded  cane, 
and,  I  suspect,  went  through  the  flat  stealing  every 
thing  he  could  lay  hands  on.  .  •  ••  .  Hand  me  my 
cigarette  case,  please." 

"  'Tis  gone,  sor — 'tis  not  on  the  desk,  at  laste, 
pwhere  I  saw  ut  last." 

"Ah!  You  see?  .  .  .  Now  for  reasons  of 
my  own,  which  I  won't  enter  into,  I  don't  want  the 
affair  to  get  out  and  become  public.  You  under 
stand?  I  want  you  to  keep  your  mouth  shut,  until 
I  give  you  permission  to  open  it." 

"Very  good,  sor."  The  janitor-valet  had  pre- 
183 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

vious  experiences  with  Maitland's  generosity  in 
grateful  memory;  and  shut  his  lips  tightly  in  prom 
ise  of  virtuous  reticence. 

"  You  won't  regret  it.  ...  Now  tell  me  what 
you  mean  by  saying  that  you  saw  me  go  out  at  one 
this  afternoon?  " 

Again  the  flood  gates  were  lifted ;  from  the  deluge 
of  explanations  and  protestations  Maitland  extracted 
the  general  drift  of  narrative.  And  in  the  end 
held  up  his  hand  for  silence. 

"  I  think  I  understand,  now.  You  say  he  had 
changed  to  my  grey  suit?  " 

O'Hagan  darted  into  the  bedroom,  whence  he 
emerged  with  confirmation  of  his  statement. 

"  'Tis  gone,  sor,  an' " 

"  All  right.  But,"  with  a  rueful  smile,  "  I'll  take 
the  liberty  of  countermanding  Mr.  Snaith's  order. 
If  he  should  call  again,  O'Hagan,  I  very  much  want 
to  see  him." 

"  Faith,  and  'tis  mesilf  will  have  a  worrud  or 
two  to  whispher  in  the  ear  av  him,  sor,"  announced 
O'Hagan  grimly. 

184 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

"  I'm  afraid  the  opportunity  will  be  lacking. 
.  .  .  You  may  fix  me  a  hot  bath  now,  O'Hagan, 
and  put  out  my  evening  clothes.  I'll  dine  at  the 
club  to-night  and  may  not  be  back." 

And,  rising,  Maitland  approached  a  mirror;  be 
fore  which  he  lingered  for  several  minutes,  catalogu 
ing  his  injuries.  Taken  altogether,  they  amounted 
to  little.  The  swelling  of  his  wrists  and  ankles  was 
subsiding  gradually  ;  there  was  a  slight  redness  visible 
in  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  a  shadow  of  dis 
coloration  on  his  right  temple — something  that 
could  be  concealed  by  brushing  his  hair  in  a  new 
way. 

"  I  think  I  shall  do,"  concluded  Maitland ;  "  there's 
nothing  to  excite  particular  comment.  The  bulk 
of  the  soreness  is  inside." 

Seven  p.  M. 

"  Time,"  said  the  short  and  thick-set  man  casually, 
addressing  no  one  in  particular. 

He  shut  the  lid  of  his  watch  with  a  snap  and 
returned  the  timepiece  to  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

185 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Simultaneously  he  surveyed  both  sides  of  the  short 
block  between  Seventh  and  St.  Nicholas  Avenues 
with  one  comprehensive  glance. 

Presumably  he  saw  nothing  of  interest  to  him.  It 
was  not  a  particularly  interesting  block,  for  that 
matter:  though  somewhat  typical  of  the  neighbor 
hood.  The  north  side  was  lined  with  five-story  flat 
buildings,  their  dingy-red  brick  fa9ades  regularly 
broken  by  equally  dingy  brownstone  stoops,  as  to  the 
ground  floor,  by  open  windows  as  to  those  above. 
The  south  side  was  mostly  taken  up  by  a  towering 
white  apartment  hotel  with  an  ostentatious  entrance ; 
against  one  of  whose  polished  stone  pillars  the  short 
and  thick-set  man  was  lounging. 

The  sidewalks,  north  and  south,  swarmed  with 
children  of  assorted  ages,  playing  with  that  fero 
cious  energy  characteristic  of  the  young  of  Harlem ; 
their  blood-curdling  cries  and  premature  Fourth-of- 
July  fireworks  created  an  appalling  din :  to  which, 
however,  the  more  mature  denizens  had  apparently 
become  callous,  through  long  endurance. 

Beyond  the  party-colored  lights  of  a  drug-store 
186 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

window  on  Seventh  Avenue,  the  electric  arcs  were 
casting  a  sickly  radiance  upon  the  dusty  leaves  of 
the  tree-lined  drive.  The  avenue  itself  was  crowded 
with  motor-cars  and  horse-drawn  pleasure  vehicles, 
mostly  bound  up-town,  their  occupants  seeking  the 
cooler  airs  and  wider  spaces  to  be  found  beyond 
the  Harlem  River  and  along  the  Speedway.  A  few 
blocks  to  the  west  Cathedral  Heights  bulked  like  a 
great  wall,  wrapped  in  purple  shadows,  its  jagged 
contour  stark  against  an  evening  sky  of  suave  old 
rose. 

The  short  and  thick-set  body,  however,  seemed  to 
have  no  particular  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of 
nature  as  exhibited  by  West  One-hundred  and  Eight 
eenth  Street  on  a  summer's  evening.  If  anything,  he 
could  apparently  have  desired  a  cooling  breeze;  for, 
after  a  moment's  doubtful  consideration,  he  un 
buttoned  his  waistcoat  and  heaved  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

Then,  carefully  shifting  the  butt  of  a  dead  cigar 
from  one  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the  other,  where  it 
was  almost  hidden  by  the  jutting  thatch  of  his  black 

187 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

mustache,  and  drawing  down  over  his  eyes  the  brim 
of  a  rusty  plug  hat,  he  thrust  fat  hands  into  the 
pockets  of  his  shabby  trousers  and  lounged  against 
the  polished  pillar  even  more  energetically  than 
before:  if  that  were  possible.  An  unromantic, 
apathetic  figure,  fitting  so  naturally  into  his  sur 
roundings  as  to  demand  no  second  look  even  from 
the  most  observant ;  yet  one  seeming  to  possess  a 
magnetic  attraction  for  the  eyes  of  the  hall-boy  of 
the  apartment  hotel  (who,  acquainted  by  sight  and 
hearsay  with  the  stout  gentleman's  identity  and  call 
ing,  bent  upon  him  a  steadfast  and  adoring  regard), 
as  well  as  for  the  policeman  who  lorded  it  on  the  St. 
Nicholas  Avenue  corner,  in  front  of  the  real-estate 
office,  and  who  from  time  to  time  shifted  his  con 
templation  from  the  infinite  spaces  of  the  heavens, 
the  better  to  exchange  a  furtive  nod  with  the  idler 
in  the  hotel  doorway. 

Presently, — at  no  great  lapse  of  time  after  the 
short  and  thick-set  man  had  stowed  away  his  watch, 
— out  of  the  thronged  sidewalks  of  Seventh  Avenue 
a  man  appeared,  walking  west  on  the  north  side  of 

188 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

the  street  and  reviewing  carelessly  the  numbers  on 
the  illuminated  fanlights:  a  tall  man,  dressed  all  in 
grey,  and  swinging  a  thin  walking  stick. 

The  short,  thick-set  person  assumed  a  mein  of 
more  intense  abstraction  than  ever. 

The  tall  man  in  grey  paused  indefinitely  before  the 
brownstone  stoop  of  the  house  numbered  205,  then 
swung  up  the  steps  and  into  the  vestibule.  Here  he 
halted,  bending  over  to  scrutinize  the  names  on  the 
letter-boxes. 

The  short,  thick-set  man  reluctantly  detached  him 
self  from  his  polished  pillar  and  waddled  ungrace 
fully  across  the  street. 

The  policeman  on  the  corner  seemed  suddenly  in 
terested  in  Seventh  Avenue;  and  walked  in  that 
direction. 

The  grey  man,  having  vainly  deciphered  all  the 
names  on  one  side  of  the  vestibule,  straightened  up 
and  turned  his  attention  to  the  opposite  wall,  either 
unconscious  of  or  indifferent  to  the  shuffle  of  feet 
on  the  stoop  behind  him. 

The  short,  thick-set  man  removed  one  hand  from 
189 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

a  pocket  and  tapped  the  grey  man  gently  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Lookin'  for  McCabe,  Anisty?"  he  inquired 
genially. 

The  grey  man  turned  slowly,  exhibiting  a  coun 
tenance  blank  with  astonishment.  "Beg  pardon?" 
he  drawled;  and  then,  with  a  dawning  gleam  of 
recognition  in  his  eyes :  "  Why,  good  evening, 
Hickey !  What  brings  you  up  this  way  ?  " 

The  short,  thick-set  man  permitted  his  jaw  to 
droop  and  his  eyes  to  protrude  for  some  seconds. 
"Oh,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  great  disgust,  "hell!" 
He  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort.  "  Ex 
cuse  me,  Mr.  Maitland,"  he  stammered,  "  I  wasn't 
lookhr  for  yeh." 

"  To  the  contrary,  I  gather  from  your  greeting 
that  you  were  expecting  our  friend,  Mr.  Anisty  ?  " 
And  the  grey  man  smiled. 

Hickey  smiled  in  sympathy,  but  with  less  evident 
relish  of  the  situation's  humor. 

"That's  right,"  he  admitted.  "Got  a  tip  from 
the  C'miss'ner's  office  this  evening  that  Anisty  would 

190 


DANCE    OF   THE    HOURS 

be  here  at  seven  o'clock  lookin'  for  a  party  named 
McCabe.  I  guess  it's  a  bum  tip,  all  right;  but  of 
course  I  got  to  look  into  it." 

"  Most  assuredly."  The  grey  man  bent  and  in 
spected  the  names  again.  "  I  am  hunting  up  an  old 
friend,"  he  explained  carelessly :  "  a  man  named 
Simmons — knew  him  in  college — down  on  his  luck — 
wrote  me  yesterday.  There  he  is :  fourth  floor,  east. 
I'll  see  you  when  I  come  down,  I  hope,  Mr.  Hickey." 

The  automatic  lock  clicked  and  the  door  swung 
open ;  the  grey  man  passing  through  and  up  the 
stairs.  Hickey,  ostentatiously  ignoring  the  exist 
ence  of  the  policeman,  returned  to  his  post  of  obser 
vation. 

At  eight  o'clock  he  was  still  there,  looking  bored. 

At  eight-thirty  he  was  still  there,  wearing  a  puzzled 
expression. 

At  nine  he  called  the  adoring  hall-boy,  gave  him  a 
quarter  with  minute  instructions,  and  saw  him  dis 
appear  into  the  hallway  of  Number  205.  Three 
minutes  later  the  boy  was  back,  breathless  but 
enthusiastic. 

191 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Missis  Simmons,"  he  explained  between  gasps, 
"  says  she  ain't  never  heard  of  nobody  named  Mait- 
land.  Somebody  rang  her  bell  a  while  ago  an'  apolo 
gized  for  disturbin'  her — said  he  wanted  the  folks 
on  the  top  floor.  I  guess  yer  man  went  acrost  the 
roofs :  them  houses  is  all  connected,  and  yuh  c'n  walk 
clear  from  the  corner  here  tuh  half-way  up  tuh  Nine 
teenth  Street,  on  Sain'  Nicholas  Avenoo." 

"  Uh-huh,"  laconically  returned  the  detective. 
"  Thanks."  And  turning  on  his  heel,  walked  west 
ward. 

The  policeman  crossed  the  street  to  detain  him  for 
a  moment's  chat. 

"  I  guess  it's  all  off,  Jim,"  Hickey  told  him. 
"  Some  one  must  've  tipped  that  crook  off.  Anyway, 
I  ain't  goin'  to  wait  no  longer." 

*6 1  wouldn't  neither,"  agreed  the  uniformed  mem 
ber.  "  Say,  who's  yer  friend  yeh  was  talkin'  tuh, 
'wMle  ago  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  f  rien'  of  mine.  Yeh  didn't  have  no  call  to 
git  excited  then,  Jim.  G'night." 

And  Hickey  proceeded  westward,  a  listless  and  pre- 
192 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURtf 

occupied  man  by  the  vacant  eye  of  him.  But  when  he 
emerged  into  the  glare  of  Eighth  Avenue  his  face 
was  unusually  red.  Which  may  have  been  due  to 
the  heat.  And  just  before  boarding  a  down-town 
surface  car,  "  Oh,"  he  enunciated  with  gusto, 
"hell!  " 

One  A.  M. 

Not  until  the  rich  and  mellow  chime  had  merged 
into  the  stillness  did  the  intruder  dare  again  to  draw 
breath.  Coming  as  it  had  the  very  moment  that  the 
door  had  closed  noiselessly  behind  her,  the  double 
stroke  had  sounded  to  her  like  a  knell:  or,  perhaps 
more  like  the  prelude  to  the  wild  alarum  of  a  tocsin, 
first  striking  her  heart  still  with  terror,  then  urging 
it  into  panic  flutterings. 

But  these,  as  the  minutes  drew  on,  marked  only 
by  the  dull  methodic  ticking  of  the  clock,  quieted; 
and  at  length  she  mustered  courage  to  move  from  the 
door,  against  which  she  had  flattened  herself,  one 
hand  clutching  the  knob,  ready  to  pull  it  open  and 
fly  upon  the  first  aggressive  sound. 

193 


,      THE    BRASS    BOWL 

In  the  interval  her  eyes  had  become  accustomed  to 
the  darkness.  The  study  door  showed  a  pale  oblong 
on  her  right ;  to  her  left,  and  a  little  toward  the  rear 
of  the  flat,  the  door  of  Maitland's  bed-chamber  stood 
ajar.  To  this  she  tiptoed,  standing  upon  the 
threshold  and  listening  with  every  fiber  of  her  being. 
No  sounds  as  of  the  regular  respiration  of  a  sleeper 
warning  her,  she  at  length  peered  stealthily  within ; 
simultaneously  she  pressed  the  button  of  an  electric 
hand-lamp.  Its  circumscribed  blaze  wavered  over 
pillows  and  counterpane  spotless  and  undisturbed. 

Then  for  the  first  time  she  breathed  freely,  con 
vinced  that  she  had  been  right  in  surmising  that 
Maitland  would  not  return  that  night. 

Since  early  evening  she  had  watched  the  house 
from  the  window  of  a  top-floor  hall  bedroom  in  the 
boarding-house  opposite.  Shortly  before  seven  she 
had  seen  Maitland,  stiff  and  uncompromising  in  rig 
orous  evening  dress,  leave  in  a  cab.  Since  then  only 
once  had  a  light  appeared  in  his  rooms  ;  at  about  half- 
after  nine  the  janitor  had  appeared  in  the  study, 
turning  up  the  gas  and  going  to  the  telephone. 

194 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

Whatever  the  nature  of  the  communication  received, 
the  girl  had  taken  it  to  indicate  that  Maitland  had  de 
cided  to  spend  the  night  elsewhere;  for  the  study 
light  had  burned  for  some  ten  minutes,  during  which 
the  janitor  could  occasionally  be  seen  moving  mys 
teriously  about;  and  something  later,  bearing  a 
suitcase,  he  had  left  the  house  and  shuffled  rapidly 
eastward  to  Madison  Avenue. 

So  she  felt  convinced  that  she  had  all  the  small 
hours  before  her,  secure  from  interruption.  And 
this  time,  she  told  herself,  she  purposed  making 
assurance  doubly  sure.  .  .  . 

But  first  to  guard  against  discovery  from  the 
street. 

Turning  back  through  the  hall,  she  dispensed  with 
the  hand-lamp,  entering  the  darkened  study.  Here 
all  windows  had  been  closed  and  the  outer  shades 
drawn — O'Hagan's  last  act  before  leaving  with  the 
suit-case:  additional  proof  that  Maitland  was  not 
expected  back  that  night.  For  the  temperature  was 
high,  the  air  in  the  closed  room  stifling. 

Crossing  to  the  windows,  the  girl  drew  down  the 
195 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

dark  green  inner  shades  and  closed  the  folding 
wooden  shutters  over  them.  And  was  conscious  of 
a  deepened  sense  of  security. 

Next  going  to  the  telephone,  she  removed  the  re 
ceiver  from  the  hook  and  let  it  hang  at  the  full  length 
of  the  cord.  In  the  dead  silence  the  small  voice  of 
Central  was  clearly  articulate:  "  What  number?  Hello., 
what  number?  " — followed  by  the  grumbling  of  the 
armature  as  the  operator  tried  fruitlessly  to  ring  the 
disconnected  bell.  The  girl  smiled  faintly,  aware 
that  there  would  now  be  no  interruption  from  an 
inopportune  call. 

There  remained  as  a  final  precaution  only  a  grand 
tour  of  the  flat ;  which  she  made  expeditiously,  pass 
ing  swiftly  and  noiselessly  (one  contemplating  mid 
night  raids  does  not  attire  one's  self  in  silks  and 
starched  things)  from  room  to  room,  all  comforta 
bly  empty.  Satisfied  at  last,  she  found  herself  again 
in  the  study,  and  now  boldly,  mind  at  rest,  lighted 
the  brass  student  lamp  with  the  green  shade,  which 
she  discovered  on  the  desk. 

Standing,  hands  resting  lightly  on  hips,  breath 
196 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

coming  quickly,  cheeks  flushed  and  eyes  alight  with 
some  intimate  and  inscrutable  emotion,  she  surveyed 
the  room.  Out  of  the  dusk  that  lay  beyond  the 
plash  of  illumination  beneath  the  lamp,  the  furniture 
began  to  take  on  familiar  shapes:  the  divans,  the 
heavy  leather-cushioned  easy  chairs,  the  tall  clock 
with  its  pallid  staring  face,  the  small  tables  and 
tabourettes,  handily  disposed  for  the  reception  of 
books  and  magazines  and  pipes  and  glasses,  the 
towering,  old-fashioned  mahogany  book-case,  the 
useless,  ornamental,  beautiful  Chippendale  escritoire, 
in  one  corner:  all  somberly  shadowed  and  all  com 
bining  to  diffuse  an  impression  of  quiet,  easy-going 
comfort. 

Just  such  a  study  as  he  would  naturally  have.  She 
nodded  silent  approbation  of  it  as  a  whole.  And, 
nodding,  sat  down  at  the  desk,  planting  elbows  on  its 
polished  surface,  interlacing  her  fingers  and  crad 
ling  her  chin  upon  their  backs:  turned  suddenly 
pensive. 

The  mood  held  her  but  briefly.  She  had  no  time 
to  waste,  and  much  to  accomplish.  .  .  .  Sitting 

197 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

back,  her  fingers  sought  and  pressed  the  clasp  of  her 
hand-bag,  and  produced  two  articles — a  golden 
cigarette  case  and  a  slightly  soiled  canvas  bag.  The 
Maitland  jewels  were  returning  by  a  devious  way, 
to  their  owner. 

But  where  to  put  them,  that  he  might  find  them 
without  delay?  It  must  be  no  conspicuous  place, 
where  O'Hagan  would  be  apt  to  happen  upon  them ; 
doubtless  the  janitor  was  trustworthy,  but  still 
.  .  .  Misplaced  opportunities  breed  criminals. 

It  was  all  a  risk,  to  leave  the  treasure  there,  with 
out  the  protection  of  nickeled-steel  walls  and  time- 
locks  ;  but  a  risk  that  must  be  taken.  She  dared  not 
retain  it  longer  in  her  possession ;  and  she  would 
contrive  a  way  in  the  morning  to  communicate  with 
Maitland  and  warn  him. 

Her  gaze  searched  the  area  where  the  lamplight 
fell  soft  yet  strong  upon  the  dark  shining  wood  and 
heavy  brass  desk  fittings ;  and  paused,  arrested  by 
the  unusual  combination  of  inverted  bowl  and  super 
imposed  book.  A  riddle  to  be  read  with  facility ;  m 
a  twinkling  she  had  uncovered  the  incriminating 

198 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

hand-print — incriminating  if  it  could  be  traced,  that 
is  to  say. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  softly.  And  laughed  a  little. 
"  Oh,  how  careless !  " 

Fine  brows  puckered,  she  pondered  the  matter,  and 
ended  by  placing  her  own  hand  over  the  print ;  this 
one  fitted  the  other  exactly. 

"  How  he  must  have  wondered !  .  .  .  He  is 
sure  to  look  again,  especially  if  .  .  ." 

No  need  to  conclude  the  sentence.  Quickly  she 
placed  bag  and  case  squarely  on  top  of  the  impres 
sion,  the  bowl  over  all,  and  the  book  upon  the  bowl ; 
then,  drawing  from  her  pocket  a  pair  of  long  grey 
silk  gloves,  draped  one  across  the  book;  and,  head 
tilted  to  one  side,  admired  the  effect. 

It  seemed  decidedly  an  artistic  effect,  admirably 
calculated  to  attract  attention.  She  was  satisfied  to 
the  point  of  being  pleased  with  herself:  a  fact 
indicated  by  an  expressive  flutter  of  slim,  fair 
hands.  .  .  .  And  now,  to  work !  Time  pressed, 
and  ...  A  cloud  dimmed  the  radiance  of  her 
eyes ;  irresolutely  she  shifted  in  her  chair,  troubled, 

199 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

frowning,  lips  woefully  drooping.  And  sighed.  And 
a  still  small  whisper,  broken  and  wretched,  disturbed 
the  quiet  of  the  study. 

"  I  can  not !  O,  I  can  not !  .  .  .  To  spoil  it 
all,  now,  when  .  .  ." 

Yet  she  must.  She  must  forget  herself  and  steel 
her  determination  with  the  memory  that  another's 
happiness  hung  in  the  balance,  depended  upon  her 
success.  Twice  she  had  tried  and  failed.  This  third 
time  she  must  succeed. 

And  bowing  her  head  in  token  of  her  resignation, 
she  turned  back  squarely  to  face  the  desk.  As  she 
did  so  the  toe  of  one  small  shoe  caught  against 
something  on  the  floor,  causing  a  dull  j  ingling  sound. 
She  stooped,  with  a  low  exclamation,  and  straight 
ened  up,  a  small  bunch  of  keys  in  her  hand :  eight  or 
ten  of  them  dangling  from  a  silver  ring:  Maitland's 
keys. 

He  must  have  dropped  them  there,  forgetting 
them  altogether.  A  find  of  value  and  one  to  save  her 
a  deal  of  trouble :  skeleton  keys  are  so  exasperatingly 
slow,  particularly  when  used  by  inexpert  hands.  But 

200 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

how  to  bring  herself  to  make  use  of  these?  All's 
fair  in  war  (and  this  was  a  sort  of  war,  a  war  of  wits 
at  least)  ;  but  one  should  fight  with  one's  own  arms, 
not  pilfer  the  enemy's  and  turn  them  against  him. 
To  use  these  keys  to  ransack  Mnitland's  desk  seemed 
an  action  even  more  blackly  dishonorable  than  this 
clandestine  visit,  this  midnight  foray. 

Swinging  the  notched  metal  slips  from  a  slender 
finger,  she  contemplated  them:  and  laughed  rue 
fully.  What  qualms  of  conscience  in  a  burglar 
self-confessed!  She  was  there  for  a  purpose,  a 
recognized,  nefarious  purpose.  Granted.  Then  why 
quibble?  .  .  .  She  would  not  quibble.  She 
would  be  firm,  resolute,  determined,  cold-blooded,  un 
mindful  of  all  kindness  and  courtesy  and 
She  would  use  them,  accomplish  her  purpose,  and 
have  done,  finally  and  for  ever,  with  the  whole  hateful 
business ! 

There  was  a  bright  spot  of  color  on  either  cheek 
and  a  hot  light  of  anger  in  her  eyes  as  she  set  about 
her  task.  It  would  never  be  less  hideous,  never  less 
immediate. 

201 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

The  desk  drawers  yielded  easily  to  the  eager  keys. 
One  by  one  she  had  them  open  and  their  contents  ex 
plored — vain  repetition  of  yesterday  afternoon's 
fruitless  task.  But  she  must  be  sure,  she  must  leave 
no  stone  unturned.  Maitland  Manor  was  closed  to 
her  for  ever,  because  of  last  night.  But  here  she  was 
safe  for  a  few  short  hours,  and  free  to  make 
assura-nce  doubly  sure. 

There  remained  the  despatch-box,  the  black 
japanned  tin  box  which  had  proved  obdurate  yes 
terday.  She  had  come  prepared  to  break  its  lock 
this  time,  if  need  be;  Maitland's  carelessness  spared 
her  the  necessity. 

She  lifted  it  out  of  a  lower  drawer,  and  put  it  in 
her  lap.  The  smallest  key  fitted  the  lock  at  the  first 
attempt.  The  lid  came  up  and 

Perhaps  it  is  not  altogether  discreditable  that  one 
should  temporarily  forget  one's  compunctions  in  the 
long-deferred  moment  of  triumph.  The  girl  uttered 
a  little  cry  of  joy. 

Crash! — the  front  door  down-stairs  had  been 
slammed. 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

She  was  on  her  feet  in  a  breath,  faint  with  fear. 
Yet  not  so  overcome  that  she  forgot  her  errand,  her 
success.  As  she  stood  up  she  dropped  the  despatch- 
box  back  into  the  drawer,  without  a  sound,  and,  open 
ing  her  hand-bag,  stuffed  something  into  it. 

No  time  to  do  more:  a  dull  rumble  of  masculine 
voices  was  distinctly,  frightfully  audible  in  the  still 
ness  of  the  house :  voices  of  men  conversing  together 
in  the  inner  vestibule.  One  laughed,  and  the  laugh 
seemed  to  penetrate  her  bosom  like  a  knife.  Then 
both  strode  across  the  tiling  and  began  to  ascend,  as 
was  clearly  told  her  by  footsteps  sounding  deadened 
on  the  padded  carpet. 

Panic-stricken,  she  turned  to  the  student  lamp  and 
with  a  quick  twirl  and  upward  jerk  of  the  chimney- 
catch  extinguished  the  flame.  A  reek  of  smoke  imme 
diately  began  to  foul  the  close,  hot  air :  and  she  knew 
that  it  would  betray  her,  but  was  helpless  to  stop 
it.  Besides,  she  was  caught,  trapped,  damned  be 
yond  redemption  unless  .  .  .  unless  it  were  not 
Maitland,  after  all,  but  one  of  the  other  tenants,  un 
expectedly  returned  and  bound  for  another  flat. 

203 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Futile  hope.  Upon  the  landing  by  the  door  the 
footsteps  ceased;  and  a  key  grated  in  the  wards 
of  the  lock. 

Blind  with  terror,  her  sole  thought  an  instinctive 
impulse  to  hide  and  so  avert  discovery  until  the  last 
possible  instant,  on  the  bare  chance  of  something 
happening  to  save  her,  the  girl  caught  up  her  skirts 
and  fled  like  a  hunted  shadow  through  the  alcove, 
through  the  bed-chamber,  thence  down  the  hall 
toward  the  dining-room  and  kitchen  offices. 

The  outer  door  was  being  opened  ere  she  had 
reached  the  hiding-place  she  had  in  mind :  the  trunk- 
closet,  from  which,  she  remembered  remarking,  a 
window  opened  upon  a  fire-escape.  It  was  barely 
possible,  a  fighting  chance.  .  .  . 

She  closed  the  door,  grateful  that  its  latch  slipped 
silently  into  place,  and  fairly  flung  herself  upon  the 
window,  painfully  bruising  her  soft  hands  in  vain 
endeavor  to  raise  the  sash.  It  stuck  obstinately, 
would  not  yield.  Too  late,  she  remembered  that  she 
had  forgotten  to  draw  the  catch — fatal  oversight ! 
A  sob  of  terror  choked  in  her  throat.  Already 

204 


DANCE    OF    THE    HOURS 

footsteps  were  hurrying  down  the  hall;  a  line  of 
light  brightened  underneath  the  door ;  voices,  ex 
citedly  keyed,  bandied  question  and  comment,  an 
unmistakable  Irish  brogue  mingling  with  a  clear 
enunciation  which  she  had  but  too  great  reason  to 
remember.  The  pair  had  passed  into  the  next  room. 
She  could  hear  O'Hagan  announcing :  "  No  wan  here, 
sor." 

"  Then  it's  the  dining-room,  or  the  trunk-closet. 
Come  along !  " 

One  last,  frantic  attempt !  But  the  window  catch, 
rusted  with  long  disuse,  stuck.  Panting,  sick  with 
fear,  the  girl  leaped  away  and  crushed  herself  into  a 
corner,  crouching  on  the  floor  behind  a  heavy  box, 
her  dark  cloak  drawn  up  to  shield  her  head. 

And  the  door  opened. 

A  flood .  of  radiance  from  the  relighted  student 
lamp  fell  athwart  the  floor.  The  girl  lay  close  and 
still,  holding  her  breath. 

Ten  seconds,  perhaps,  ticked  on  into  Eternity: 
seconds  that  were  in  themselves  eternities.  Then: 
"  No  one  here,  O'Hagan." 

205 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

The  door  was  closed,  and  through  its  panels  more 
faintly  came :  "  Faith,  and  the  murdhering  divvle 
must  've  flew  th'  coop  afore  ye  come  in,  sor." 

The  girl  tried  to  rise,  to  make  again  for  the  win 
dow;  but  it  was  as  though  her  limbs  had  turned  to 
water;  there  was  no  strength  in  her;  and  the  black 
ness  swam  visibly  before  her  eyes,  radiating  away  in 
whirling,  streaky  circles.  .  .  . 

Even  such  resolution  and  strong  will  as  was  hers 
could  not  prevail  against  that  numbing,  deathly  ex 
haustion.  Her  eyes  closed  and  her  head  fell  back 
against  the  wall. 

It  seemed  but  an  instant  (though  it  was  in  point 
of  fact  a  full  five  minutes)  ere  the  sound  of  a  voice 
again  roused  her. 

She  looked  up,  dazzled  by  a  gush  of  warm  light. 

He  stood  in  the  doorway,  holding  the  lamp  high 
above  his  head,  his  face  pale,  grave,  and  shadowed  as 
he  peered  down  at  her. 

"  I  have  sent  O'Hagan  away,"  he  said  gently.  "  If 
you  will  please  to  come,  now " 


206 


IX 

PROCRASTINATION 

The  cab  which  picked  Maitland  up  at  his  lodgings 
carried  him  but  a  few  blocks  to  the  club  at  which  he 
had,  the  previous  evening,  entertained  his  lawyer. 
Maitland  had  selected  it  as  the  one  of  all  the  clubs  of 
which  he  and  Bannerman  were  members,  wherein  he 
was  least  likely  to  meet  the  latter.  Neither  fre 
quented  its  sober  precincts  by  habit.  Its  severe  and 
classical  building  on  a  corner  of  Madison  Avenue 
overlooking  the  Square,  is  but  the  outward  present 
ment  of  an  institution  to  be  a  member  of  which  is  a 
duty,  but  emphatically  no  great  pleasure,  to  the  sons 
of  a  New  York  family  of  any  prominence. 

But  in  its  management  the  younger  generation 
holds  no  suffrage ;  and  is  not  slow  to  declare  that 
the  Primordial  is  rightly  named,  characterizing  the 
individual  members  of  the  Board  of  Governors  as 
antediluvians,  prehistoric  monsters  who  have  never 

207 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

learned  that  laughter  lends  a  savor  to  existence.  And 
so  it  is  that  the  younger  generation,  (which  is  under 
stood  to  include  Maitland  and  Bannerman),  while  it 
religiously  pays  its  dues  and  has  the  name  of  the 
Primordial  engraved  upon  its  cards,  shuns  those 
deadly  respectable  rooms  and  seeks  its  comfort 
elsewhere. 

Maitland  found  it  dull  and  depressing  enough, 
that  same  evening,  something  before  seven.  The 
spacious  and  impressive  lounging-rooms  were  but 
sparsely  tenanted,  other  than  by  the  ennuied  corps 
of  servants ;  and  the  few  members  who  had  lent  the 
open  doors  the  excuse  of  their  presence  were  of  the 
elderly  type  that  hides  itself  behind  a  newspaper  in 
an  easy  chair  and  snorts  when  addressed. 

The  young  man  strolled  disconsolately  enough  into 
the  billiard-room,  thence  (dogged  by  a  specter  of 
loneliness)  to  the  bar,  and  finally,  in  sheer  despera 
tion,  to  the  dining-room,  where  he  selected  a  table 
and  ordered  an  evening  paper  with  his  meal. 

When  the  former  was  brought  him,  he  sat  up 
and  began  to  take  a  new  interest  in  life.  The  glaring 

208 


PROCRASTINATION 

head-lines  that  met  his  eye  on  the  front  page  proved 
as  bracing  as  a  slap  in  the  face. 

"'The  Maitland  Jewels,'"  he  read,  half  aloud: 
"  '  Daring  Attempt  at  Burglary.  "  Mad  "  Maitland 
Catches  "  Handsome  Dan  "  Anisty  in  the  Act  of 
Cracking  His  Safe  at  Maitland  Manor.  Which  was 
Which?  Both  Principals  Disappear.'' 

A  dull  red  glow  suffused  the  reader's  countenance ; 
he  compressed  his  lips,  only  opening  them  once,  and 
then  to  emit  a  monosyllabic  oath,  which  can  hardly 
have  proved  any  considerable  relief  to  his  surcharged 
emotional  nature. 

The  news-story  was  exploited  as  a  "  beat  " ;  it 
could  have  been  little  else,  since  nine-tenths  of  its 
"  exclusive  details  "  had  been  born  full-winged  from 
the  fecund  imagination  of  a  busy  reporter  to  whom 
Maitland  had  refused  an  interview  while  in  his  bath, 
some  three  hours  earlier.  Maitland  discovered  with 
relief  that  boiled  down  to  essentials  it  consisted  sim 
ply  of  the  statement  that  somebody  (presumably 
himself)  had  caught  somebody  (presumably  Anisty) 
burglarizing  the  library  safe  at  Maitland  Manor 

209 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

that  morning:  that  one  of  the  somebodies  (no  one 
knew  which)  had  overpowered  the  other  and  left  him 
in  charge  of  the  butler,  who  had  presently  permitted 
his  prisoner  to  escape  and  then  talked  for  publi 
cation. 

It  was  not  to  this  so  much  that  Maitland  objected. 
It  was  the  illustrations  that  alternately  saddened 
and  maddened  the  young  man:  the  said  illustrations 
comprising  blurred  half-tone  reproductions  of  pho 
tographs  taken  on  the  Maitland  estate;  a  diagram 
of  the  library,  as  fanciful  as  the  text  it  illuminated, 
and  two  portraits,  side  by  side,  of  the  heroes,  him 
self  and  Anisty,  excellent  likenesses  both  of  the  orig 
inals  and  of  each  other. 

Mr.  Maitland  did  not  enjoy  his  dinner. 

Anxious  and  preoccupied,  he  tasted  the  dishes  me 
chanically  ;  and  when  they  had  all  passed  before  him, 
took  his  thoughts  and  a  cigar  to  a  gloomy  corner  of 
the  smoking-room,  where  he  sat  for  two  solid  hours, 
debating  the  matter  pro  and  con,  and  arriving  at 
no  conclusion  whatever,  save  that  Higgins  was 
doomed. 


PROCRASTINATION 

n 

At  ten-fifteen  he  began  to  contemplate  with  posi 
tive  pleasure  the  prospect  of  discharging  the  butler. 
That,  at  least,  was  action,  something  that  he  could 
do ;  wherever  else  he  thought  to  move  he  found  him 
self  baffled  by  the  blank  darkness  of  mystery,  or  by 
his  fear  of  publicity  and  ridicule. 

At  ten-twenty  he  decided  to  move  upon  Greenfields 
at  once,  and  telephoned  O'Hagan,  advising  him  to 
profess  ignorance  of  his  employer's  whereabouts. 

At  ten-twenty-two,  or  in  the  midst  of  his  admoni 
tions  to  the  janitor,  he  changed  his  mind  and  decided 
to  stay  in  New  York;  and  instructed  the  Irishman 
to  bring  hi,,,  a  suit-case  containing  a  few  necessa 
ries;  his  intention  being  to  stay  out  the  night  at  the 
club,  and  so  avoid  the  matutinal  siege  of  his  lodgings 
by  reporters  and  detectives. 

At  ten-forty-five  a  club  servant  handed  him  the 
card  of  a  representative  of  the  Evening  Journal. 
Maitland  directed  that  the  gentleman  be  shown  into 
the  reception-room. 

At  ten-forty-six  he  skulked  out  of  the  club  by  a 
side  entrance,  jumped  into  a  cab  and  had  himself 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

driven  to  the  East  Thirty-fourth  Street  ferry,  ar 
riving  there  just  in  time  to  miss  the  last  train  for 
Greenfields. 

Denied  the  shelter  alike  of  his  lodgings,  his  club, 
and  his  country  home,  the  young  man  in  despair 
caused  himself  to  be  conveyed  to  the  Bartholdi  Hotel, 
where,  possessed  of  a  devil  of  folly,  he  preserved  his 
incognito  by  registering  under  the  name  of  "  M. 
Daniels."  And  straightway  retired  to  his  room. 

But  not  to  rest.  The  portion  of  the  mentally 
harassed,  sleeplessness,  was  his;  and  for  an  hour  or 
more  he  tossed  upon  his  bed  (upon  which  he  had 
thrown  himself  without  troubling  to  undress),  pon 
dering,  to  no  profit  of  his,  the  hundred  problems, 
difficulties,  and  disadvantages  suggested  or  created 
by  the  events  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours. 

The  grey  girl,  Anisty,  the  jewels,  himself:  un 
flagging,  his  thoughts  circumnavigated  the  world  of 
his  romance,  touching  only  at  these  four  ports,  and 
returning  always  to  linger  longest  in  the  harbor  of 
sentiment. 

The  grey  girl :  strange  that  her  personality  should 
212 


PROCRASTINATION 

have  come  to  dominate  his  thoughts  in  a  space  of 
time  so  brief!  and  upon  grounds  of  intimacy  so  slen 
der!  .  .  .  Who  and  what  was  she?  What  cruel 
rigor  of  circumstance  had  impelled  her  to  seek  a  live 
lihood  in  ways  so  sinister?  At  whose  door  must  the 
blame  be  laid,  against  what  flaw  in  the  body  social 
should  the  indictment  be  drawn,  that  she  should  have 
been  forced  into  the  ranks  of  the  powers  that  prey — • 
a  girl  of  her  youth  and  rare  fiber,  of  her  cultivation, 
her  charm,  and  beauty? 

The  sheer  loveliness  of  her,  her  grace  and  gentle 
ness,  her  ingenuous  sensitiveness,  her  wit:  they  com 
bined  to  make  the  thought  of  her,  to  him,  at  least, 
at  once  terrible  and  a  delight.  Remembering  that 
once  he  had  held  her  in  his  arms,  had  gazed  into  her 
starlit  eyes,  and  inhaled  the  impalpable  fragrance  of 
her,  he  trembled,  was  both  glad  and  afraid. 

And  her  ways  so  hedged  about  with  perils !  While 
he  must  stand  aside,  impotent,  a  pillar  of  the  social 
order  secure  in  its  shelter,  and  see  her  hounded  and 
driven  by  the  forces  of  the  Law,  harried  and  wor 
ried  like  an  unclean  thing,  forced,  as  it  might  be,  to 

213 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

resort  to  stratagems  and  expedients  unthinkable,  to 
preserve  her  liberty. 

It  was  altogether  intolerable.  He  could  not  stand 
it.  And  jet — it  was  written  that  their  paths  had 
crossed  and  parted  and  were  never  again  to  touch. 
Or  was  it?  .  .  .  It  must  be  so  written:  they 
would  never  meet  again.  After  all,  her  concern  with, 
her  interest  in,  him,  could  have  been  nothing  perma 
nent.  They  had  encountered  under  strange  aus 
pices,  and  he  had  treated  her  with  common  decency, 
for  which  she  had  repaid  him  in  good  measure  by 
permitting  him  to  retain  his  own  property.  Their 
account  was  even,  and  she  for  ever  done  with  him. 
That  must  be  her  attitude.  Why  should  it  be  any 
thing  else? 

"  Oh,  the  devil !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man  in  dis 
gust.  And  rising,  took  his  distemper  to  the  window. 

Leaning  on  the  sill,  he  thrust  head  and  shoul 
ders  far  out  over  the  garish  abyss  of  metropolitan 
night.  The  hot  breath  of  the  city  fanned  up  in 
stifling  waves  into  his  face,  from  the  street  below, 
upon  whose  painted  pavements  men  crawled  like  in- 


PROCRASTINATION 

sects — round  moving  spots,  to  each  his  romance 
under  his  hat. 

The  window  was  on  the  corner,  overlooking  the 
junction  of  three  great  highways  of  humanity: 
Twenty-third  Street,  with  its  booming  crosstown 
cars,  stretching  away  into  the  darkness  on  either 
hand;  Broadway,  forking  off  to  the  left,  its  distances 
merging  into  a  hot  glow  of  yellow  radiance;  Fifth 
Avenue,  branching  into  the  north  with  Hs  desolate 
sidewalks  oddly  patterned  in  areas  of  dense  shadow 
and  a  cold,  clear  light.  Over  the  way  the  park 
loomed  darkly,  for  all  its  scattered  arcs,  a  black  and 
silent  space,  a  well  of  mystery.  .  .  , . 

It  was  late,  quite  late;  the  clock  in  front  of  Dor- 
Ion's  (he  craned  his  neck  to  see)  made  the  hour  one 
in  the  morning;  the  sidewalks  wire  comparatively  de 
serted,  even  the  pillared  portico  of  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel  destitute  of  loungers.  A  timid  hint  of  cool 
ness,  forerunning  the  dawn,  rode  up  on  the  breeze. 

He  looked  up  and  away  northward,  for  many  min 
utes,  over  housetops  stenciled  black  against  the  glow 
ing  sky,  his  gaze  ^earning  into  vast  distances  of 

215 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

space,  melancholy  tingeing  the  complexion  of  his 
mind.  He  fancied  himself  oppressed  by  a  vague 
uneasiness,  unaccountable  as  to  cause,  unless  .  .  . 

From  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  with  a  ven 
geance,  his  thoughts  tumbled.  Gone  the  glamour  of 
Romance  in  a  twinkling,  banished  by  rank  material 
ism.  He  could  have  blushed  for  shame ;  he  got  slowly 
to  his  feet,  irresolute,  trying  to  grapple  with  a  con 
dition  that  never  before  in  his  existence  had  he  been 
called  upon  to  consider. 

He  had  just  realized  that  he  was  flat-strapped  for 
cash.  He  had  given  his  last  quarter  to  the  cabby, 
hours  back.  He  was  registered  at  a  strange  hotel, 
under  an  assumed  name,  unable  to  beg  credit  even 
for  his  breakfast  without  declaring  his  identity  and 
thereby  laying  himself  open  to  suspicion,  discour 
tesy,  insult. 

Of  course  there  were  ways  out.  He  could  tele 
phone  Bannerman,  or  any  other  of  half  a  dozen 
acquaintances,  in  the  morning;  but  that  involved 
explanations,  and  explanations  involved  making  him 
self  the  butt  of  his  circle  for  many  a  weary  day. 


PROCRASTINATION 

There  was  money  in  his  lodgings,  in  the  Chippen 
dale  escritoire;  but  to  get  it  he  would  have  to  run 
the  gauntlet  of  reporters  and  detectives  which  had 
already  dismayed  him  in  prospect.  O'Hagan — ah! 

At  the  head  of  his  bed  was  a  telephone.  Impul 
sively,  inconsiderate  of  the  hour,  he  turned  to  it. 

"  Give  me  Nine-o-eight-nine  Madison,  please,"  he 
said ;  and  waited,  receiver  to  ear. 

There  was  a  slight  pause ;  a  buzz ;  the  voice  of  the 
switchboard  operator  below  stairs  repeating  the 
number  to  Central;  Central's  appropriately  mechan 
ical  reiteration  ;  another  buzz ;  a  silence ;  a  prolonged 
buzz;  and  again  the  sounding  silence.  .  .  . 

"  Hello ! "  he  said  softly  into  the  transmitter,  at  a 
venture. 

No  answer. 

"Hello!" 

Then  Central,  irritably :  "  Go  ahead.  You've  got 
your  party." 

"Hello,  hello!" 

A  faint  hum  of  voices,  rising  and  falling,  beat 
against  the  walls  of  his  understanding.  Were  the 

217 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

wires  crossed?  He  lifted  an  impatient  finger  to  jiggle 
the  hook  and  call  Central  to  order,  when — something 
crashed  heavily.  He  could  have  likened  the  sound, 
without  a  strain  of  imagination,  to  a  chair  being  vio 
lently  overturned.  And  then  a  woman's  voice,  clear, 
accents  informed  with  anger  and  pain :  "  No!  "  and 
then 

"  Say,  that's  my  mistake.  That  line  you  had  's 
out  of  order.  I  had  a  call  for  them  a  while  ago,  and 
they  didn't  answer.  Guess  you'll  have  to  wait." 

"  Central !  Central !  "  he  pleaded  desperately.  "  I 
say,  Central,  give  me  that  connection  again,  please." 

"Ah,  say!  what's  the  matter  with  you,  anyway? 
Didn't  I  tell  you  that  line  was  out  of  order?  Ring 
off!" 

Automatically  Maitland  returned  the  receiver  to 
its  rest ;  and  rose,  white-lipped  and  trembling.  That 


218 


CONSEQUENCES 

Breathing  convulsively,  wide  eyes  a  little  wildly 
fixed  upon  his  face  in  the  lamplight,  the  girl  stum 
bled  to  her  feet,  and  for  a  moment  remained  cower 
ing  against  the  wall,  terribly  shaken,  a  hand  gripping 
a  corner  of  the  packing-box  for  support,  the  other 
pressed  against  the  bosom  of  her  dress  as  if  in  at 
tempt  forcibly  to  quell  the  mad  hammering  of  her 
heart. 

In  her  brain,  a  turmoil  of  affrighted  thought,  but 
one  thing  stood  out  clearly :  now  she  need  look  for  no 
mercy.  The  first  time  it  had  been  different ;  she  had 
not  been  a  woman  had  she  been  unable  then  to  see 
that  the  adventure  intrigued  Maitland  with  its  spice 
of  novelty,  a  new  sensation,  fully  as  much  as  she, 
herself,  the  pretty  woman  out  of  place,  interested 
and  attracted  him.  He  had  enjoyed  playing  the  part, 
had  been  amused  to  lead  her  to  believe  him  an  adven- 

819 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

turer  of  mettle  and  caliber  little  inferior  to  her  own — • 
as  he  understood  her :  unscrupulous,  impatient  of  the 
quibble  of  meum-et-tuum,  but  adroit  and  keen-witted, 
and  distinguished  and  set  apart  from  the  herd  by 
grace  of  gentle  breeding  and  chivalric  instincts. 

How  far  he  might  or  might  not  have  let  this  en 
joyment  carry  him,  she  had  no  means  of  surmising. 
Not  very  far,  not  too  far,  she  was  inclined  to  believe, 
strongly  as  she  knew  her  personality  to  have  influ 
enced  him :  not  far  enough  to  induce  him  to  trust  her 
out  of  sight  with  the  jewels.  He  had  demonstrated 
that,  to  her  humiliation. 

The  flush  of  excitement  waning,  manlike  soon  had 
he  wearied  of  the  game — she  thought:  to  her  mind, 
in  distorted  retrospect,  his  attitude  when  leaving  her 
at  dawn  had  been  insincere,  contemptuous,  that  of  a 
man  relieved  to  be  rid  of  her,  relieved  to  be  able  to 
get  away  in  unquestioned  possession  of  his  treasure. 
True,  the  suggestion  that  they  lunch  together  at 
Eugene's  had  been  his.  .  .  .  But  he  had  for 
gotten  the  engagement,  if  ever  he  had  meant  to  keep 
it,  if  the  notion  had  been  more  than  a  whim  of  the 

220 


CONSEQUENCES 

moment  with  him.  And  O'Hagan  had  told  her  by 
telephone  that  Maitland  had  left  his  rooms  at  one 
o'clock — in  ample  time  to  meet  her  at  the  restau 
rant.  .  .  . 

No,  he  had  never  intended  to  come;  he  had 
wearied ;  yet,  patient  with  her,  true  to  the  ethics  of 
a  gentle  man,  he  had  been  content  to  let  her  go, 
rather  than  to  send  a  detective  to  take  his 
place.  .  .  . 

And  this  was  something,  by  the  way,  to  cause  her 
to  revise  her  theory  as  to  the  manner  in  which  Anisty 
had  managed  to  steal  the  jewels.  If  Maitland  had 
gone  abroad  at  one,  and  without  intending  to  keep 
his  engagement  at  Eugene's,  then  he  must  have  been 
despoiled  before  that  hour,  and  without  his  know 
ledge.  Surely,  if  the  jewels  had  been  taken  from  him 
with  his  cognizance,  the  hue  and  cry  would  have  been 
out  and  Anisty  would  not  have  dared  to  linger  so 
long  in  the  neighborhood ! 

To  be  just  with  herself,  the  girl  had  not  gone  to 
the  restaurant  with  much  real  hope  of  finding  Mait 
land  there.  Curiosity  had  drawn  her, — just  to  see 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

if.  ...  But  it  was  too  preposterous  to  credit, 
that  he  should  have  cared  enough.  .  .  .  Quite 
too  preposterous !  It  was  her  cup,  her  bitter  cup,  to 

know   that  she  had  learned  to   care  enough at 

sight!  .  .  .  And  she  recalled  (with  what  pangs 
of  shame  and  misery  begged  expression!)  how  her 
heart  had  been  stirred  when  she  had  found  him  (as 
she  thought)  true  to  his  tryst:  even  as  she  recalled 
the  agony  and  distress  of  mind  with  which  she  had 
a  moment  later  fathomed  Anisty's  impersonation. 

For,  of  course,  she  had  known  that  Maitland  was 
Maitland  and  none  other,  from  the  instant  when  he 
told  her  to  make  good  her  escape  and  leave  him  to 
brazen  it  out:  a  task  to  daunt  even  as  bold  and  re 
sourceful  a  criminal  as  Anisty,  and  more  especially 
if  he  were  called  upon  to  don  the  mask  at  a  min 
ute's  notice,  as  Maitland  had  pretended  to.  Or,  if 
she  had  not  actually  known,  she  had  been  led  to  sus 
pect:  and  it  had  hardly  needed  what  she  had  heard 
him  say  to  the  servants,  when  he  thought  her  flying 
hotfoot  over  the  lawn  to  safety,  to  harden  suspicion 
into  certainty. 


CONSEQUENCES 

And  now  that  he  should  find  her  here,  a  second 
time  a  trespasser,  doubly  an  ingrate, — that  he  should 
have  caught  her  red-handed  in  this  abominably  un 
grateful  treachery!  .  '.  .  She  could  pretend,  of 
course,  that  she  had  returned  merely  to  restore  the 
jewels  and  the  cigarette  case;  and  he  would  believe 
her,  for  he  was  generous.  •  .'  .  She  could,  but — 
she  could  not.  Not  now.  Yesterday,  the  excitement 
had  buoyed  her;  she  had  gained  a  piquant  enjoy 
ment  from  befooling  him,  playing  her  part  of  the 
amateur  crackswoman  in  this  little  comedy  of  the 
stolen  jewels.  But  therein  lay  the  difference:  yes 
terday  it  had  been  comedy,  but  to-day — ah!  to-day 
she  could  no  longer  laugh.  For  now  she  cared. 

A  little  lie  would  clear  her — yes.  But  it  was  not 
to  be  cleared  that  she  now  so  passionately  desired; 
it  was  to  have  him  believe  in  her,  even  against  the 
evidence  of  his  senses,  even  in  the  face  of  the  world's 
condemnation ;  and  so  prove  that  he,  too,  cared — 
cared  for  her  as  his  attitude  toward  her  had  taught 
her  to  care.  .  .  . 

Ever  since  leaving  him  in  the  dawn  she  had  fed  her 
223 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

starved  heart  with  the  hope,  faint  hope  though  it 
were,  that  he  would  come  to  care  a  little,  that  he 
would  not  utterly  despise  her,  that  he  would  under 
stand  and  forgive,  when  he  learned  why  she  had 
played  out  her  part,  nor  believe  that  she  was  the  em 
bodiment  of  all  that  was  ignoble,  coarse,  and  crude; 
that  he  would  show  a  little  faith  in  her,  a  little  faith 
that  like  a  flickering  taper  might  light  the  way 
for  .  .  .  Love. 

But  that  hope  was  now  dead  within  her,  and  cold. 
She  had  but  to  look  at  him  to  see  how  groundless  it 
had  been,  how  utterly  unmoved  he  was  by  her  dis 
tress.  He  waited  patiently — that  was  all — seeming 
so  very  tall,  a  pillar  of  righteous  strength,  distin 
guished  and  at  ease  in  his  evening  clothes :  waiting, 
patient  but  cold,  dispassionate  and  disdainful. 

"  I  am  waiting,  you  see.  Might  I  suggest  that  we 
have  not  all  week  for  our — our  mutual  differences  ?  " 

His  tone  was  altogether  changed ;  she  would  hardly 
have  known  it  for  his  voice.  Its  incisive,  clipped 
accents  were  like  a  knife  to  her  sensitiveness.  .  .  . 
She  summoned  the  reserve  of  her  strength,  stood 


CONSEQUENCES 

erect,  unsupported,  and  moved  forward  without  a 
word.  He  stood  aside,  holding  the  lamp  high,  and 
followed  her,  lighting  the  way  down  the  hall  to  the 
study. 

Once  there,  she  sank  quivering  into  a  chair,  while 
he  proceeded  gravely  to  the  desk,  put  down  the  lamp, 
— superfluous  now,  the  gas  having  been  lighted, — 
and  after  a  moment's  thought  faced  her,  with  a  con 
temptuous  smile  and  lift  of  his  shoulders,  thrusting 
hands  deep  into  his  pockets. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  cuttingly. 

She  made  a  little  motion  of  her  hands,  begging  for 
time ;  and,  assenting  with  a  short  nod,  he  took  a  turn 
up  and  down  the  room,  then  abstractedly  reached  up 
and  turned  out  the  gas. 

"  When  you  are  quite  composed  I  should  enjoy 
hearing  your  statement." 

"I     .     .     .     have  none  to  make." 

"  So ! " with  his  back  to  the  lamp,  towering 

over  and  oppressing  her  with  the  sense  of  his 
strength  and  self-control.  "  That  is  very  odd,  isn't 
it?" 

225 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  I  have  no — no  explanation  to  give  that  would 
satisfy  you,  or  myself,"  she  said  brokenly.  "  I — I 
don't  care  what  you  think,"  with  a  flicker  of  defiance. 
"  Believe  the  worst  and — and  do  what  you  will — have 
me  arrested " 

He  laughed  sardonically.  "  Oh,  we  won't  go  so 
far  as  that,  I  guess ;  harsh  measures,  such  as  arrest 
and  imprisonment,  are  so  unsatisfactory  to  all  con 
cerned.  But  I  am  interested  to  know  why  you  are 
here." 

Her  breathing  seemed  very  loud  in  the  pause ;  she 
kept  her  lips  tight,  fearing  to  speak  lest  she  lose  her 
mastery  of  self.  And  hysteria  threatened:  the  flut 
tering  in  her  bosom  warned  her.  She  must  be  very 
careful,  very  restrained,  if  she  were  to  avert  that 
crowning  misfortune. 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you,"  he  con 
tinued  musingly ;  "  surely  you  must  have  anticipated 
interruption." 

"  I  thought  you  safely  out  of  the  way " 

"  One  presumed  that."  He  laughed  again,  un- 
226 


CONSEQUENCES 

pleasantly.  "  But  how  about  Maitland?  Didn't  you 
have  him  in  your  calculations,  or 

He  paused,  unfeignedly  surprised  by  her  expres 
sion.  And  chuckled  when  he  comprehended. 

"  By  the  powers,  I  forgot  for  a  moment !  So  you 
thought  me  Maitland,  eh?  Well,  I'm  sorry  I  didn't 
understand  that  from  the  first.  .You're  so  quick,  as 
a  rule,  you  know, — I  confess  you  duped  me  neatly 
this  afternoon, — that  I  supposed  you  were  wise  and 
only  afraid  that  I'd  give  you  what  you  deserve. 
...  If  they  had  sent  any  one  but  that  stupid  ass, 
Hickey,  to  nab  me,  I'd  be  in  the  cooler  now.  As  it 
was,  you  kindly  selected  the  very  best  kind  of  a  house 
for  my  purpose;  I  went  straight  up  to  the  roofs  and 
out  through  a  building  round  the  corner.  .  .  ." 

But  the  shock  of  discovery,  with  its  attendant  re 
vulsion  of  feeling,  had  been  too  much  for  her.  She 
collapsed  suddenly  in  the  chair,  eyes  half  closed, 
face  pallid  as  a  mask  of  death. 

Anisty  regarded  her  in  silence  for  a  meditative 
instant,  then,  taking  up  the  lamp,  strode  down  the 

227 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hall  to  the  pantry,  returning  presently  with  a  glass 
brimming  with  an  amber-tinted,  effervescent  liquid. 

"  Champagne,"  he  announced,  licking  his  lips. 
"  Wish  I  had  Maitland's  means  to  gratify  my  palate. 
He  knows  good  wine.  .  .  .  Here,  my  dear,  gulp 
this  down,"  placing  the  glass  to  the  girl's  lips  and 
raising  her  head  that  she  might  swallow  without 
strangling. 

As  it  was,  she  choked  and  gasped,  but  after  a  mo 
ment  began  to  show  some  signs  of  having  benefited 
by  the  draught,  a  faint  color  dawning  in  her  cheeks. 

"  That's  some  better,"  commended  the  burglar,  not 
unkindly.  "  Now,  if  you  please,  we'll  stop  talking 
pretty  and  get  down  to  brass  tacks.  Buck  up,  now, 
and  answer  my  questions.  And  don't  be  afraid ;  I'm 
holding  no  great  grudge  for  what  you  did  this  after 
noon.  I  appreciate  pluck  and  grit  as  much  as  any 
body,  I  guess,  though  I  do  think  you  ran  it  pretty 
close,  peaching  on  a  pal  after  you'd  lifted  the  jewels. 
By  the  way,  why  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Because.  .  .  .  But  you  wouldn't  under 
stand  if  I  told  you." 


CONSEQUENCES 

"  I  suppose  not.  I'm  not  much  good  splitting  sen 
timental  hairs.  But  Mai t land  must  have  been  pretty 
decent  to  you  to  make  you  go  so  far.  .  .  . 
Speaking  of  which,  where  are  they  ?  " 

"They?" 

"  Don't  sidestep.  We  understand  one  another.  I 
know  you've  brought  back  the  jewels.  Where  have 
you  stowed  them?  " 

The  wine  had  fulfilled  its  mission,  endowed  her 
with  fresh  strength  and  renewed  spirit.  She  was 
thinking  quickly,  every  wit  alert. 

"  I  won't  tell  you." 

"Won't,  eh?  That's  an  admission  that  they're 
here,  you  know.  And  you  may  as  well  know  I  pro 
pose  to  have  'em.  Fair  means  or  foul,  take  your 
pick.  Where  are  they?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  I  wouldn't  tell." 

"  I've  known  pluckier  women  than  you  to  change 
their  minds,  under  pressure."  He  came  nearer, 
bending  over,  face  close  to  hers,  eyes  savage,  and 
gripped  her  wrists  none  too  gently.  "  Tell  me ! " 

"  Let  me  go." 

229 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

He  proceeded  calmly  to  imprison  both  small  wrists 
in  one  strong,  bony  hand.  "  Better  tell." 

"  Let  me  go !  "  she  panted,  struggling  to  rise. 

His  voice  took  on  an  ugly  tone.    "  Tell !  " 

She  was  a  child  in  his  hands,  but  managed  never 
theless  to  rise.  As  he  applied  the  pressure  more 
cruelly  to  her  arms  she  cried  aloud  with  pain  and, 
struggling  desperately,  knocked  the  chair  over. 

It  went  down  with  a  crash  appallingly  loud  in  that 
silent  house  and  at  that  hour ;  and  taking  advantage 
of  his  instant  of  consternation  she  jerked  free  and 
sprang  toward  the  door.  He  was  upon  her  in  an 
instant,  however,  hard  fingers  digging  into  her  shoul 
ders.  "You  little  fool!" 

"  No !  "  she  cried.  "  No,  no,  no !  Let  me  go,  you 
— you  brute! 

Abruptly  he  thought  better  of  his  methods  and 
released  her,  merely  putting  himself  between  her  and 
the  doorway. 

"Don't  be  a  little  fool,"  he  counseled.  "You 
kick  up  that  row  and  you'll  have  us  both  pinched  in 
side  of  the  next  five  minutes." 


"Let  me  go!  "  she  panted      Page  230 


CONSEQUENCES 

Defiance  was  on  her  tongue's  tip,  but  the  truth  in 
his  words  gave  her  pause.  Palpitating  with  the 
shock,  every  outraged  instinct  a-quiver,  she  subdued 
herself  and  fell  back,  eying  him  fixedly. 

"  They're  here,"  he  nodded  thoughtfully.  "  You 
wouldn't  have  stood  for  that  if  they  weren't.  And 
since  they  are,  I  can  find  them  without  your  assist 
ance.  Sit  down.  I  shan't  touch  you  again." 

She  had  scant  choice  other  than  to  obey.  Des 
perate  as  she  was,  her  strength  had  been  severely 
overtaxed,  and  she  might  not  presume  upon  it  too 
greatly.  Fascinated  with  terror,  she  let  herself  down 
into  an  easy  chair. 

Anisty  thought  for  a  moment,  then  went  over  to 
the  desk  and  sat  himself  before  it. 

"  Keys,"  he  commented,  rapidly  inventorying  what 
he  saw.  "  How'd  you  get  hold  of  them?  " 

"  They  arc  Mr.  Maitland's.  He  must  have  for 
gotten  them." 

The  burglar  chuckled  grimly.  "  Coincidences 
multiply.  It  is  odd.  That  harp,  O'Hagan,  was 
coming  in  with  a  can  of  .beer  while  I  was  picking  the 

231 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

lock,  and  caught  me.  He  wanted  to  know  if  I'd  missed 
my  train  for  Greenfields,  and  I  gave  him  my  word  of 
honor  I  had.  Moreover,  I'd  mislaid  my  keys  and 
had  been  ringing  for  him  for  the  past  ten  minutes. 
He  swallowed  every  word  of  it.  ...  By  the 
way,  here's  a  glove  of  yours.  You  certainly  man 
aged  to  leave  enough  clues  about  to  insure  your 
being  nabbed  even  by  a  New  York  detective." 

He  faced  about,  tossing  her  the  glove,  and  with  it 
so  keen  and  penetrating  a  glance  that  her  heart  sank 
for  fear  that  he  had  guessed  her  secret.  But  as  he 
continued  she  regained  confidence. 

"  I  could  teach  you  a  thing  or  two,"  he  suggested 
pleasantly.  "  You  make  about  as  many  mistakes  as 
the  average  beginner.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  you've 
got  the  majority  beaten  to  a  finish  for  'cuteness. 
You're  as  quick  as  they  make  them." 

She  straightened  up,  uneasy,  oppressed  by  a  vague 
surmise  as  to  whither  this  tended. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  breathlessly,  "  but  hadn't 
you  better " 

"  Plenty  of  time,  my  dear.     Maitland  has  gone  to 


CONSEQUENCES 

Greenfields  and  we've  several  hours  before  us.  .  .  . 
Look  here,  little  woman,  why  don't  you  take  a  tumble 
to  yourself,  cut  out  all  this  nonsense,  and  look  to 
your  own  interests  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  faltered,  "  but 
if » 

"  I'm  talking  about  this  Maitland  affair.  Cut  it 
out  and  forget  it.  You're  too  good-looking  and 
valuable  to  yourself  to  lose  your  head  just  all  on 
account  of  a  little  moonlight  flirtation  with  a  good- 
looking  millionaire.  You  don't  suppose  for  an  in 
stant  that  there's  anything  in  it  for  yours,  do  you? 
You're  nothing  to  Maitland — just  an  incident;  next 
time  he  meets  you,  the  baby-stare  for  yours.  You 
can  thank  your  lucky  stars  he  happened  to  have  a 
reputation  to  sustain  as  a  village  cut-up,  a  gay,  sad 
dog,  always  out  for  a  good  time  and  hang  the  ex 
pense! — otherwise  he'd  have  handed  you  yours  with 
out  a  moment's  hesitation.  I'm  not  doing  this  up  in 
tin-foil  and  tying  a  violet  ribbon  with  tassels  on  it, 
but  I'm  handing  it  straight  to  you:  something  you 
don't  want  to  forget.  .  .  .  You  just  sink  your 

233 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hooks  in  the  fact  that  you're  nothing  to  Maitland 
and  that  he's  nothing  to  you,  and  never  will  be,  and 
you  won't  lose  anything — except  illusions." 

She  remained  quiescent  for  a  little,  hands  twitch 
ing  in  her  lap,  torn  by  conflicting  emotions — fear  of 
and  aversion  for  the  man,  amusement,  chill  horror 
bred  of  the  knowledge  that  he  was  voicing  the  truth 
about  her,  the  truth,  at  least,  as  he  saw  it,  and — 
and  as  Maitland  would  see  it. 

"  Illusions?  "  she  echoed  faintly,  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  his  with  a  pitiful  attempt  at  a  smile.  "  Oh, 
but  I  must  have  lost  them,  long  ago ;  else  I  shouldn't 
be  .  .  ." 

"  Here  and  what  you  are.  That's  what  I'm  tell 
ing  you." 

She  shuddered  imperceptibly ;  looked  down  and  up 
again,  swiftly,  her  expression  inscrutable,  her  voice 
a-tremble  between  laughter  and  tears :  "  Well  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  "  The  directness  of  her  query  figuratively 
brought  him  up  all  standing,  canvas  flapping  and 
wind  out  of  his  sails. 

"  What  are  you  offering  me  in  exchange  for  my 


CONSEQUENCES 

silly  dream?"  she  inquired,  a  trace  of  spirit  quick 
ening  her  tone. 

"  A  fair  exchange,  I  think  .  .  .  something 
that  I  wouldn't  offer  you  if  you  hadn't  been  able  to 
dream."  He  paused,  doubtful,  clumsy. 

"  Go  on,"  she  told  him  faintly.  .  .  .  Since  it 
must  come,  as  well  be  over  with  it. 

"  See  here."  He  took  heart  of  desperation. 
'  You  took  to  Maitland  when  you  thought  he  was 
me.  Why  not  take  to  me  for  myself?  I'm  as  good 
a  man,  better  as  a  man,  than  he,  if  I  do  blow  my 
own  horn.  .  .  .  You  side  with  me,  little  woman, 
and — and  all  that — and  I'll  treat  you  square.  I 
never  went  back  on  a  pal  yet.  Why,"  brightening 
with  enthusiasm  as  his  gaze  appraised  her,  "  with 
your  looks  and  your  cleverness  and  my  knowledge  of 
the  business,  we  can  sweep  the  country,  you  and  I." 

"Oh!"  she  cried  breathlessly. 

"  We'll  start  right  now,"  he  plunged  on,  misread 
ing  her ;  "  right  now,  with  last  night's  haul.  You'll 
chuck  this  addled  sentimental  pangs-of-conscience 
lay,  hand  over  the  jewels,  and — and  I'll  hand  'em 

235 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

back  to  you  the  day  we're  married,  all  set  and 
as  handsome  a  wedding  present  as  any 
woman  ever  got.  .  .  ." 

She  twisted  in  her  chair  to  hide  her  face  from 

him,  fairly  cornered  at  last,  brain  a-whirl  devising 

a  hundred  maneuvers,  each  more  helpless  than  the 

last,   to   cheat   and   divert  him   for   the  time,   until 

until 

The  consciousness  of  his  presence  near  her,  of  the 
sheer  strength  and  might  of  will-power  of  the  man, 
bore  upon  her  heavily;  she  was  like  a  child  in  his 
hands,  helpless.  .  .  .  She  turned  with  a  hushed 
gasp  to  find  that  he  had  risen  and  come  close  to 
her  chair;  his  face  was  not  a  foot  from  hers,  his  eyes 
dangerous ;  in  another  moment  he  would  have  his 
strong  arms  about  her.  She  shrank  away,  terrified. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  begged. 

"Well,  and  why  not?     Well?  "—tensely. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  This  afternoon  I 

outwitted  you,  robbed  and  sold  you  for — for  what 
you  call  a  scruple.  How  can  I  know  that  you  are 
not  paying  me  back  in  my  own  coin  ?  " 


CONSEQUENCES 

"Oh,  but  little  woman!"  he  laughed  tenderly, 
coming  nearer.  "  It  is  because  you  did  that,  bccniiM- 
you  could  hold  those  scruples  and  make  a  fool  of  me 
for  their  sake,  that  I  want  you.  Don't  think  I'm 
capable  of  playing  with  you — it  takes  a  woman  to 
do  that.  Don't  you  know," — he  bent  nearer  and 
his  breath  was  warm  upon  her  cheek, — "  don't  you 
know  that  you're  too  rare  and  fine  and  precious  for 
a  man  to  risk  losing?  .  .  .  Come  now!" 

"  Not  yet."  She  started  to  her  feet  and  away. 
"Wait.  .  .  .  There's  a  cab!" 

The  street  without  was  echoing  with  the  clatter 
ing  drum  of  galloping  hoofs.  "  At  this  hour !  "  she 
cried,  aghast.  ;*  Could  it  be " 

"  No  fear.     Besides — there,  it's  stopped." 

"  In  front  of  this  house !  " 

"  No,  three  doors  up  the  street,  at  least.  That's 
something  you  must  learn,  and  I  can  teach  you:  to 
judge  distance  by  sound  in  the  darkness " 

"  But  I  tell  you,"  she  insisted,  retreating  before 
him,  "  it's  a  risk.  .  .  .  There,  did  you  hear 
that?" 

237 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  That  "  was  the  dulled  crash  of  the  front  door. 

Anisty  stepped  to  the  table  on  the  instant  and 
plunged  the  room  in  darkness. 

"Steady!"  he  told  her  evenly.  "Steady.  It 
can't  be — but  take  no  chances.  Go  to  the  trunk- 
closet  and  get  that  window  open.  If  it's  Maitland," 
—grimly—"  well,  I'll  follow." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"  Leave  that  to  me.  .  .  .  I've  never  been 
caught  yet." 

Cold  fear  gripped  her  heart  as,  in  a  flash  of  intui 
tion,  she  divined  his  intention. 

"  Quick !  "  he  bade  her  savagely.  "  Don't  you 
want " 

"  I  can't  see,"  she  invented.  "  Where's  the  door  ? 
I  can't  see.  .  .  ." 

"  Here." 

Through  the  darkness  his  fingers  found  hers. 
"  Come,"  he  said. 

"Ah!" 

Her  hand  closed  over  his  wrist,  and  in  a  thought 
23$ 


CONSEQUENCES 

she  had  flung  herself  before  him  and  caught  the 
other.  In  the  movement  her  hand  brushed  against 
something  that  he  was  holding;  and  it  was  cold  and 
smooth  and  hard. 

"Ah!  no,  no!"  she  implored.  "Not  that,  not 
that ! " 

With  an  oath  he  attempted  to  throw  her  off,  but, 
frail  strength  magnified  by  a  fury  of  fear,  she 
joined  issue  with  him,  clinging  to  his  wrists  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  wildcat,  though  she  was  lifted  from  her 
feet  and  dashed  this  way  and  that,  brutally,  merci 
lessly,  though  her  heart  fell  sick  within  her  for  the 
hopelessness  of  it,  though  .  .  »  , 


239 


XI 

QUIXOTE 

Leaving  the  hotel,  Maitland  strode  quietly  but  rap 
idly  across  the  car-tracks  to  the  sidewalk  bordering 
the  park.  A  dozen  nighthawk  cabbies  bore  down 
upon  him,  yelping  in  chorus.  He  motioned  to  the 
foremost,  jumped  into  the  hansom  and  gave  the  fel 
low  his  address. 

"  Five  dollars,"  he  added,  "  if  you  make  it  in 
five  minutes." 

An  astonished  horse,  roused  from  a  droop-eared 
lethargy,  was  yanked  almost  by  main  strength  out 
of  the  cab-rank  and  into  the  middle  of  the  Avenue. 
Before  he  could  recover,  the  long  whip-lash  had 
leaped  out  over  the  roof  of  the  vehicle,  and  he  found 
himself  stretching  away  up  the  Avenue  on  a  dead 
run. 

Yet  to  Maitland  the  pace  seemed  deadly  slow. 
He  fidgeted  on  the  seat  in  an  agony  of  impatience, 
a  dozen  times  feeling  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  for  his 

240 


«  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

latch-keys.  They  were  there,  and  his  fingers  itched 
to  use  them. 

By  the  lights  streaking  past  he  knew  that  their 
pace  was  furious,  and  was  haunted  by  a  fear  lest  it 
should  bring  the  police  about  his  ears.  At  Twenty- 
ninth  Street,  indeed,  a  dreaming  policeman,  startled 
by  the  uproar,  emerged  hastily  from  the  sheltering 
gloom  of  a  store-entrance,  shouted  after  the  cabby 
an  inarticulate  question,  and,  getting  no  response, 
unsheathed  his  night-stick  and  loped  up  the  Avenue 
in  pursuit,  making  the  locust  sing  upon  the  pave 
ment  at  every  jump. 

In  the  cab,  Maitland,  turning  to  watch  through 
the  rear  peep-hole,  was  thrown  violently  against 
the  side  as  the  hansom  rocketed  on  one  wheel  into 
his  street.  Recovering,  he  seized  the  dashboard  and 
gathered  himself  together,  ready  to  spring  the  in 
stant  the  vehicle  paused  in  its  headlong  career. 

Through  the  cabby's  misunderstanding  of  the  ad 
dress,  in  all  likelihood,  the  horse  was  reined  in  on 
its  haunches  some  three  houses  distant  from  the 
apartment  building.  Maitland  found  himself  sprawl- 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

ing  on  his  hands  and  knees  on  the  sidewalk,  picked 
himself  up,  shouting  "  You'll  wait?  "  to  the  driver, 
and  sprinted  madly  the  few  yards  separating  him 
from  his  own  front  door,  keys  ready  in  hand. 

Simultaneously  the  half-winded  policeman  lum 
bered  around  the  Fifth  Avenue  corner,  and  a  man, 
detaching  himself  from  the  shadows  of  a  neighboring 
doorway,  began  to  trot  loutishly  across  the  street, 
evidently  with  the  intention  of  intercepting  Maitland 
at  the  door. 

He  was  hardly  quick  enough.  Maitland  did  not 
even  see  him.  The  door  slammed  in  the  man's  face, 
and  he,  panting  harshly,  rapped  out  an  imprecation 
and  began  a  frantic  assault  on  the  push-button 
marked  "  Janitor." 

As  for  Maitland,  he  was  taking  the  stairs  three 
at  a  clip,  and  had  his  pass-key  in  the  latch  almost 
as  soon  as  his  feet  touched  the  first  landing.  An 
instant  later  he  thrust  the  door  open  and  blundered 
blindly  into  the  pitch-darkness  of  his  study. 

For  a  thought  he  stood  bewildered  and  dismayed 
)by  the  absence  of  light.  He  had  thought,  somehow, 


«  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

to  find  the  gas-jets  flaring.  The  atmosphere  was 
hot  and  foul  with  the  odor  of  kerosene,  the  blackness 
filled  with  strange  sounds  and  mysterious  moving 
shapes.  A  grunting  gasp  came  to  his  ears,  and 
then  the  silence  and  the  night  alike  were  split  by  a 
report,  accompanied  by  a  streak  of  orange  flame 
shooting  ceilingward  from  the  middle  of  the  room. 

Its  light,  transient  as  it  was,  gave  him  some  in 
kling  of  the  situation.  Unthinkingly  he  flung  himself 
forward,  ready  to  grapple  with  that  which  first 
should  meet  his  hands.  Something  soft  and  yield 
ing  brushed  against  his  shoulder,  and  subconsciously, 
in  the  auto-hypnosis  of  his  excitement,  he  was  aware 
of  a  man's  voice  cursing  and  a  woman's  cry  of 
triumph  trailing  off  into  a  wail  of  pain. 

On  the  instant  he  found  himself  at  grips  with  the 
marauder.  For  a  moment  both  swayed,  dazed  by 
the  shock  of  collision.  Then  Maitland  got  a  foot 
ing  on  the  carpet  and  put  forth  his  strength ;  the 
other  gave  way,  slipped,  and  went  to  his  knees. 
Maitland's  hands  found  his  throat,  fingers  sinking 
deep  into  flesh  as  he  bore  the  fellow  backward. 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

A  match  flared  noiselessly  and  the  gas  blazed  over 
head.  A  cry  of  astonishment  choked  in  his  throat 
as  he  recognized  his  own  features  duplicated  in  the 
face  of  the  man  whose  throat  he  was  slowly  and  re 
lentlessly  constricting.  Anisty !  He  had  not  thought 
of  him  or  connected  him  with  the  sounds  that  had 
thrilled  and  alarmed  him  over  the  telephone  wire 
coming  out  of  the  void  and  blackness  of  night.  In 
deed,  he  had  hardly  thought  any  coherent  thing 
about  the  matter.  The  ring  of  the  girl's  "  No !  " 
had  startled  him,  and  he  had  somehow  thought, 
vaguely,  that  O'Hagan  had  surprised  her  in  the  flat. 
But  more  than  that. 

He  glanced  swiftly  aside  at  the  girl  standing  still 
beneath  the  chandelier,  the  match  in  one  hand  burn 
ing  toward  her  finger-tips,  in  the  other  Anisty's  re 
volver.  Their  eyes  met,  and  in  hers  the  light  of 
gladness  leaped  and  fell  like  a  living  flame,  then 
died,  to  be  replaced  by  a  look  of  entreaty  and  prayer 
So  moving  that  his  heart  in  its  unselfish  chivalry 
went  out  to  her. 

Who  or  what  she  was,  howsoever  damning  the  evi- 
244 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

dence  against  her,  he  would  believe  against  belief, 
shield  her  to  the  end  at  whatever  hazard  to  himself, 
whatever  cost  to  his  fortunes.  Love  is  unreasoning 
and  unreasonable  even  when  unrecognized. 

His  senses  seemed  to  vibrate  with  redoubled  activ 
ity,  to  become  abnormally  acute.  For  the  first  time 
he  was  conscious  of  the  imperative  clamor  of  the 
electric  bell  in  O'Hagan's  quarters,  as  well  as  of  the 
janitor's  rich  brogue  voicing  his  indignation  as  he 
opened  the  basement  door  and  prepared  to  ascend. 
Instantly  the  cause  of  the  disturbance  flashed  upon 
him. 

His  strangle-hold  on  Anisty  relaxed,  he  released 
the  man,  and,  brows  knitted  with  the  concentration 
of  his  thoughts,  he  stepped  back  and  over  to  the 
girl,  lifting  her  hand  and  gently  taking  the  revolver 
from  her  fingers. 

Below,  O'Hagan  was  parleying  through  the  closed 
door  with  the  late  callers.  Maitland  could  have 
blessed  his  hot-headed  Irish  stupidity  for  the  delay 
he  was  causing. 

Already  Anisty  was  on  his  feet  again,  blind  with 
£45 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

rage  and  crouching  as  if  ready  to  spring,  only  re 
strained  by  the  sight  of  his  own  revolver>  steady  and 
threatening  in  Maitland's  hand. 

For  the  least  part  of  a  second  the  young  man 
hesitated,  choosing  his  way.  Then,  resolved,  in  ac 
cents  of  determination,  "  Stand  up,  you  hound !  " 
he  cried.  "  Back  to  the  wall  there !  "  and  thrust  the 
weapon  under  the  burglar's  nose. 

The  move  gained  instant  obedience.  Mr.  Anisty 
could  not  reasonably  hesitate  in  the  face  of  such 
odds. 

"  And  you,"  Maitland  continued  over  his  shoul 
der  to  the  girl,  without  removing  his  attention  from 
the  burglar,  "  into  the  alcove  there,  at  once !  And 
not  a  word,  not  a  whisper,  not  a  sound  until  I  call 
you ! " 

She  gave  him  one  frightened  and  piteous  glance, 
then,  unquestioning,  slipped  quietly  behind  the  por 
tieres. 

To  Anisty,  again :  "  Turn  your  pockets  out !  " 
commanded  Maitland.  "  Quick,  you  fool !  The  po 
lice  are  below ;  your  freedom  depends  on  your  haste." 

246 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

Anisty's  hands  flew  to  his  pockets,  emptying  their 
contents  on  the  floor.  Maitland's  eyes  sought  in 
vain  the  shape  of  the  canvas  bag.  But  time  was 
too  precious.  Another  moment's  procrastination 
and 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said  crisply,  without  raising 
his  voice.  "  Now  listen  to  me.  At  the  end  of  the 
hall,  there,  you'll  find  a  trunk-closet,  from  which  a 
window " 

"  I  know." 

"  Naturally  you  would.     Now  go !  " 

Anisty  waited  fot  no  repetition  of  the  permission. 
Whatever  the  madness  of  Mad  Maitland,  he  was  con 
cerned  only  to  profit  by  it.  Never  before  had  the 
long  arm  of  the  law  stretched  hungry  fingers  so 
near  his  collar.  He  went,  springing  down  the  hall 
in  long,  soundless  strides,  vanishing  into  its  shadows. 

As  he  disappeared  Maitland  stepped  to  the  door, 
raised  his  revolver,  and  pulled  the  trigger  twice. 
The  shots  detonated  loudly  in  that  confined  space, 
and  rang  coincident  with  the  clash  and  clatter  of 
shivered  glass.  A  thin  cloud  of  vapor  obscured  the 

M7 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

doorway,  swaying  on  the  hot,  still  air,  then  parted 
and  dissolved,  dissipated  by  the  entrance  of  four  men 
who,  thrusting  the  door  violently  open,  struggled 
into  the  hallway. 

Blue  cloth  and  brass  buttons  moved  conspicuously 
in  the  van,  a  grim  face  flushed  and  perspiring  be 
neath  the  helmet's  vizor,  a  revolver  poised  menac 
ingly  in  one  hand,  locust  as  ready  in  the  other. 
Behind  this  outward  and  visible  manifestation  of  the 
law's  majesty  bobbed  a  rusty  derby,  cocked  jauntily 
back  upon  the  red,  shining  forehead  of  a  short  and 
thick-set  person  with  a  black  mustache.  O'Hagan's 
agitated  countenance  loomed  over  a  dusty  shoulder, 
and  the  battered  silk  hat  of  the  nighthawk  brought 
up  the  rear. 

"  Come  in,  everybody,"  Maitland  greeted  them 
cheerfully,  turning  back  into  the  study  and  tossing 
the  revolver,  shreds  of  smoke  still  curling  up  from  its 
muzzle,  upon  a  divan.  "  O'Hagan,"  he  called,  on 
second  thought,  "  jump  down-stairs  and  see  that  all 
New  York  doesn't  get  in.  Let  nobody  in !  " 

As  the  janitor  unwillingly  obeyed,  policeman  arui 
248 


«  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

detective  found  their  tongues.  A  volley  of  questions, 
to  the  general  purport  of  "  What's  th'  meanin'  of 
all  this  here?"  assailed  Maitland  as  he  rested  him 
self  coolly  on  an  edge  of  the  desk.  He  responded, 
with  one  eyebrow  slightly  elevated: 

"  A  burglar.  What  did  you  suppose?  That  I 
was  indulging  in  target  practice  at  this  time  of 
night?" 

"Which  way  'd  he  go?  " 

"  Back  of  the  flat — through  the  window  to  the 
fire-escape,  I  suppose.  I  took  a  couple  of  shots 
after  him,  but  missed,  and  inasmuch  as  he  was  armed, 
I  didn't  pursue." 

Hickey  stepped  forward,  glowering  unpleasantly 
at  the  young  man.  "  Yeh  go  along,"  he  told  the  uni 
formed  man,  "  'nd  see  'f  he's  tellin'  the  truth.  I'll 
stay  here  'nd  keep  him  company." 

His  tone  amused  Maitland.  In  the  reaction  from 
the  recent  strain  upon  his  wits  and  nerve,  he  laughed 
openly. 

u  And  who  are  you?"  he  suggested,  smiling,  as 
the  policeman  clumped  heavily  away. 

249 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Hickey  spat  thoughtfully  into  a  Satsuma  jardi 
niere  and  sneered.  "  I  s'pose  yeh  never  saw  me  be 
fore?  " 

Maitland  bowed  affirmation.  "  I'm  sorry  to  say 
that  that  pleasure  has  heretofore  been  denied  me." 

"  Uh-huh,"  agreed  the  detective  sourly,  "  I  guess 
that's  a  hot  one,  too."  He  scowled  blackly  in  Mait- 
land's  amazed  face  and  seemed  abruptly  to  swell 
with  mysterious  rage.  "  My  name's  Hickey,"  he 
informed  him  venomously,  "  and  don't  yeh  lose  sight 
of  that  after  this.  It's  somethin'  it  won't  hurt  yeh 
to  remember.  Guess  yer  mem'ry's  taking  a  vaca 
tion,  huh?  " 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  Maitland,  "  you  speak  in 
parables  and — if  you'll  pardon  my  noticing  it — with 
some  uncalled-for  spleen.  Might  I  suggest  that  you 
moderate  your  tone?  For,"  he  continued,  facing  the 
man  squarely,  "  if  you  don't,  it  will  be  my  duty  and 
pleasure  to  hoist  you  into  the  street." 

"  I  got  a  photergrapht  of  yeh  doing  it,"  growled 
Hickey.  "  Still,  seeing  as  yeh  never  saw  me  before, 
I  guess  it  won't  do  no  harm  for  yeh  to  connect  with 

250 


«  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

this."  And  he  turned  back  his  coat,  uncovering  the 
official  shield  of  the  detective  bureau. 

"Ah!"  commented  Maitland  politely.  "A  de 
tective?  How  interesting !" 

"  Fire-escape  winder's  broke,  all  right."  This 
was  the  policeman,  returned.  "  And  some  one's  let 
down  the  bottom  length  of  ladder,  but  there  ain't 
nobody  in  sight." 

"  No,"  interjected  Hickey,  "  'nd  there  wouldn't 
've  been  if  you'd  been  waitin'  in  the  back  yard  all 
night." 

"  Certainly  not,"  Maitland  agreed  blandly ;  "  es 
pecially  if  my  burglar  had  known  it.  In  which  case 
I  fancy  he  would  have  chosen  another  route — by  the 
roof,  possibly." 

"  Yeh  know  somethin'  about  roofs  yehself, 
donchuh? "  suggested  Hickey.  "  Well,  I  guess 
yeh'll  have  time  to  write  a  book  about  it  while 
yeh " 

He  stepped  unexpectedly  to  Maitland's  side  and 
bent  forward.  Something  cold  and  hard  closed  with 
a  snap  around  each  of  the  young  man's  wrists.  He 

251 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

started  up,  face  aflame  with  indignation,  forgetful 
of  the  girl  hidden  in  the  alcove. 

"What  the  devil!"  he  cried  hotly,  jingling  the 
handcuffs. 

"  Ah,  come  off,"  Hickey  advised  him.  "  Yeh  can't 
bluff  it  for  ever,  you  know.  Come  along  and  tell 
the  sarge  all  about  it,  Daniel  Maitland,  .Es-quire, 
alias  Handsome  Dan  Anisty,  gentleman  burglar. 
.  .  .  Ah,  cut  that  out,  young  fellow;  yeh'll  find 
this  ain't  no  laughin'  matter.  Yeh're  foxy,  all 
right,  but  yeh've  pushed  yer  run  of  luck  too  hard." 

Hickey  paused,  perplexed,  finding  no  words  where 
with  adequately  to  voice  the  disgust  aroused  in  him 
by  his  prisoner's  demeanor,  something  far  from 
seemly,  to  his  mind. 

The  humor  of  the  situation  had  just  dawned  upon 
Maitland,  and  the  young  man  was  crimson  with 
appreciation. 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  "  he  begged  feebly.  "  Don't  let 
me  stop  you,  Hickey.  Don't,  please,  let  me  spoil 
it  all.  .  .  .  Your  Sherlock  Holmes,  Hickey,  is 
one  of  the  finest  characterizations  I  have  ever  wit- 


"  DAN  "      —QUIXOTE 

ncsscd.  It  is  a  privilege  not  to  be  underestimated 
Jo  be  permitted  to  play  Raffles  to  you.  .  .  . 
But  seriously,  my  dear  sleuth !  "  with  an  unhappy 
attempt  to  wipe  his  eyes  with  hampered  fists, 
"  don't  you  think  you're  wasting  your  talents?  " 

By  this  time  even  the  policeman  seemed  doubtful. 
He  glanced  askance  at  the  detective  and  shuffled  un 
easily.  As  for  the  cabby,  who  had  blustered  in  at 
first  with  intent  to  demand  his  due  in  no  uncertain 
terms,  apparently  Maitland's  bearing,  coupled  with 
the  inherent  contempt  and  hatred  of  the  nighthawk 
tribe  for  the  minions  of  the  law,  had  won  his  sympa 
thies  completely.  Lounging  against  a  door-jamb, 
quite  at  home,  he  genially  puffed  an  unspeakable  cig 
arette  and  nodded  approbation  of  Maitland's  every 
other  word. 

But  Hickey — Hickey  bristled  belligerently. 

"  Fine,"  he  declared  acidly ;  "  fine  and  dandy.  I 
take  off  my  hat  to  yeh,  Dan  Anisty.  I  may  be  a 
bad  actor,  all  right,  but  yeh  got  me  beat  at  the 
post." 

Then  turning  to  the  policeman,  "  I  got  him  right. 
253 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Look  here !  "  Drawing  a  folded  newspaper  from  his 
pocket,  he  spread  it  open  for  the  officer's  inspection. 
"  Yeh  see  them  pictures?  Now,  on  the  level,  is  it 
natural?  " 

The  patrolman  frowned  doubtfully,  glancing  from 
the  paper  to  Maitland.  The  cabby  stretched  a  curi 
ous  neck.  Maitland  groaned  inwardly ;  he  had  seen 
that  infamous  sheet. 

"  Now  listen,"  the  detective  expounded  with  gusto. 
"  Twict  to-day  this  here  Maitland,  or  Anisty,  meets 
me.  Once  on  the  stoop  here,  'nd  he's  Maitland  'nd 
takes  me  to  lunch — see?  Next  time  it's  in  Harlem, 
where  I've  been  sent  with  a  hot  tip  from  the  C'm- 
miss'ner's  office  to  find  Anisty,  'nd  he's  still  Mait 
land  'nd  surprised  to  see  me.  I  ain't  sure  then,  but 
I'm  doin'  some  heavy  thinkin',  all  right.  I  lets 
him  go  and  shadows  him.  After  a  while  he  gives  me 
the  slip  'nd  I  chases  down  here,  waitin'  for  him  to 
turn  up.  Coming  down  on  the  car  I  buys  this  paper 
'nd  sees  the  pictures,  and  then  I'm  on.  See?  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  grunted  the  patrolman,  scowling  at 
Maitland.  The  cabby  caressed  his  nose  with  a  soiled 


"  DAN  "      —QUIXOTE 

forefinger   reflectively,   plainly    a   bit   prejudiced   by 
Rickey's  exposition. 

"  One  minute,"  Maitland  interjected,  eyes  twin 
kling  and  lips  twitching.  "  How  long  ago  was  it 
that  you  began  to  watch  this  house,  sleuth?  " 

"  Five  minutes  before  yeh  come  home,"  responded 
Hickey,  ignoring  the  insult.  "  Now — 

"  Took  you  a  long  time  to  figure  this  out,  didn't 
it?  But  go  on,  please." 

"  Well,  I  picked  the  winner,  all  right,"  flared  the 
detective.  "  I  guess  that'll  be  about  all  for  yours." 

"  Not  quite,"  Maitland  contradicted  brusquely, 
wearying  of  the  complication.  "  You  say  you  met 
me  on  the  stoop  here.  At  what  o'clock  ?  " 

"  One ;  'nd  yeh  takes  me  to  lunch  at  Eugene's." 

"  Ah!    When  did  I  leave  you?  " 

"  I  leaves  yeh  there  at  two." 

"  Well,  O'Hagan  will  testify  that  he  left  me  in 
these  rooms,  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers  at  about 
one.  At  four  he  found  me  on  this  divan,  bound  and 
gagged,  by  courtesy  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Anisty. 
Now,  when  was  I  with  you  in  Harlem?  " 

255 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

u  At  seven  o'clock,  to  the  minute,  yeh  comes " 

66  Never  mind.  At  ten  minutes  to  seven  I  took  a 
cab  from  here  to  the  Primordial  Club,  where  I  dined 
at  seven  precisely." 

"  And  what's  more,"  interposed  the  cabman 
eagerly,  "  I  took  yer  there,  sir." 

"  Thank  you.  Furthermore,  sleuth,  you  say  that 
you  followed  me  around  town  from  seven  o'clock 
until — when  ?  " 

"  I  said "  stammered  the  plain-clothes  man, 

purple  with  confusion. 

"  No  matter.  I  didn't  leave  the  Primordial  until 
a  quarter  to  eleven.  But  all  this  aside,  as  I  under 
stand  it,  you  are  asserting  that,  having  given  you 
all  this  trouble  to-day,  and  knowing  that  you  were 
after  me,  I  deliberately  hopped  into  a  cab  fifteen 
minutes  ago,  came  up  Fifth  Avenue  at  such  break 
neck  speed  that  this  officer  thought  it  was  a  runaway, 
and  finally  jumped  out  and  ran  up-stairs  here  to  fire 
a  revolver  three  times,  for  no  purpose  whatsoever 
beyond  bringing  you  gentlemen  about  my  ears?" 

Hickey's  jaw  sagged.  The  cabby  ostentatiously 
256 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

covered  his  mouth  with  a  huge  red  paw  and  made 
choking  noises. 

"  Pass  it  up,  sarge,  pass  it  up,"  he  whispered 
hoarsely. 

"  Shut  yer  trap,"  snapped  the  detective.  "  I 
know  what  I'm  doin'.  This  crook's  clever  all  right, 
hut  I  got  the  kibosh  on  him  this  time.  Lemine 
alone."  He  squared  his  shoulders,  blustering  to  save 
his  face.  "  I  don't  know  why  yeh  done  it " 

"Then  I'll  tell  you,"  Maitland  cut  in  crisply. 
"  If  you'll  be  good  enough  to  listen."  And  concisely 
narrated  the  events  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours, 
iK'o-inning  at  the  moment  when  he  had  discovered 
Anisty  in  Maitland  Manor.  Save  that  he  substituted 
himself  for  the  man  who  had  escaped  from  Higgins 
and  eliminated  all  mention  of  the  grey  girl,  his  state 
ment  was  exact  and  convincing.  As  he  came  down 
to  the  moment  when  he  had  called  up  from  the  Bar- 
tholdi  and  heard  mysterious  sounds  in  his  flat,  sub 
stantiating  his  story  by  indicating  the  receiver  that 
dangled  useless  from  the  telephone,  even  Hickey  was 
staggered. 

257 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

But  not  beaten.  When  Maitland  ceased  speaking 
the  detective  smiled  superiority  to  such  invention. 
"  Very  pretty,"  he  conceded.  "  Yeh  c'n  tell  it  all 
to  the  magistrate  to-morrow  morning.  Meantime 
yeh'll  have  time  to  think  up  a  yarn  explainin'  how 
it  come  that  a  crook  like  Anisty  made  three  attempts 
in  one  day  to  steal  some  jewels,  'nd  didn't  get  'em. 
Where  were  they  all  this  time  ?  " 

"  In  safe-keeping,"  Maitland  lied  manfully,  with 
a  furtive  glance  toward  the  alcove. 

"Whose?"  pursued  Mr.  Hickey  truculently. 

"  Mine,"  with  equanimity.  "  Seriously — sleuth! 
— are  you  trying  to  make  a  charge  against  me  of 
stealing  my  own  property?" 

"Yeh  done  it  for  a  blind.  'Nd  that's  enough. 
Officer,  take  this  man  to  the  station;  I'll  make  the 
complaint." 

The  policeman  hesitated,  and  at  this  juncture 
O'Hagan  put  in  an  appearance,  lugging  a  heavy 
brown-paper  bundle. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Misther  Maitland,  sor ?  " 

"Well,  O'Hagan?" 

258 


"Beg  pardon,  Misther  Maitland,  sor— ?"     Page  258 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

"  The  crowd  at  the  dure,  sor,  is  dishpersed,"  the 
janitor  reported.  "  A  couple  av  cops  kern  along  an' 
fanned  'em.  They're  askin'  fer  the  two  av  yees," 
with  a  careless  nod  to  the  policeman  and  detective. 

"  Yeh  heard  what  I  said,"  Hickey  answered  the 
officer's  look. 

"  I'm  thinkin',"  O'Hag-an  pursued,  calmly  ignor 
ing  the  presence  of  the  outsiders,  "  thot  these  do  be 
the  soot  that  domned  thafe  av  the  worruld  stole  off 
ye  the  day,  sor.  A  la-ad  brought  ut  at  ayeleven 
o'clock,  sor,  wid  particular  rayquist  thot  ut  be  day- 
livered  to  ye  at  once.  The  paper's  tore,  an' " 

"  O'Hagan,"  Maitland  ordered  sharply,  "  undo 
that  parcel.  I  think  I  can  satisfy  you  now,  sleuth. 
What  kind  of  a  suit  did  your  luncheon  acquaintance 
wear?  " 

"  Grey,"  conceded  Hickey  reluctantly. 

"  An'  here  ut  is,"  O'Hagan  announced,  arraying 
the  clothing  upon  a  chair.  "  Iv'ry  domn'  thing, 
aven  down  to  the  socks.  .  .  .  And  a  note  for 
ye,  sor." 

As  he  shook  out  the  folds  of  the  coat  a  square 
259 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

white  envelope  dropped  to  the  floor;  the  janitor  re 
trieved  and  offered  it  to  his  employer. 

"  Give  it  to  the  sleuth,"  nodded  Maitland. 
Scowling,  Hickey  withdrew  the  inclo sure— barely 
glancing  at  the  superscription. 

"'Dear  Mr.   Maitland,'"  he  read   aloud;  "'As 
you  will  probably   surmise,   my  motive  in  thus   re 
storing  to  you  a  portion  of  your  property  is  not 
altogether  uninfluenced  by  personal  and  selfish  con 
siderations.     In  brief,  I  wish  to  discover  whether  or 
not  you  are  to  be  at  home  to-night.     If  not,  I  shall 
take  pleasure  in  calling ;  if  the  contrary,  I  shall  feel 
that  in  justice  to  myself  I  must  forego  the  pleasure 
of  improving  an  acquaintance  begun  under  auspices 
so  unfavorable.     In  either  case,  permit  me  to  thank 
you  for  the  use  of  your  wardrobe,— which,  quaintly 
enough,  has   outlived   its  usefulness   to   me:   a   fat- 
headed  detective  named  Hickey  will  tell  you  why,— 
and   to    extend   to    you    expression    of    my    highest 
consideration.      Believe   me,   I   am   enviously   yours, 
Daniel  Anisty  '—Signed,"  added  Hickey  mechanic 
ally,  his  face  working. 

260 


«  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

"Satisfied,  sleuth?" 

By  way  of  reply,  but  ungraciously,  the  detective 
stepped  forward  and  unlocked  the  handcuffs. 

Maitland  stood  erect,  smiling.  "  Thank  you 
very  much,  sleuth.  I  shan't  forget  you.  .  .  . 
O'Hagan,"  tossing  the  janitor  the  keys  from  his 

desk,    "  you'll    find    some ah lemon-pop    and 

root-beer  in  the  buffet.  This  officer  and  his  friends 
will  no  doubt  join  you  in  a  friendly  drink  down 
stairs.  Cabby,  I  want  a  word  with  you.  .  .  . 
Good  morning,  gentlemen.  Good  morning,  sleuth." 

And  he  showed  them  the  door.  "  I  shall  be  at  your 
service,  officer,"  he  called  over  the  janitor's  shoul 
der,  "  at  any  time  to-morrow  morning.  If  not  here, 
O'Hagan  will  tell  you  where  to  find  me.  And, 
O'Hagan!"  The  janitor  fell  back.  "Keep  them 
at  least  an  hour,"  Maitland  told  him  guardedly. 
"  And  say  nothing." 

The  Irishman  pledged  his  discretion  by  a  silent 
look.  Maitland  turned  back  to  the  cabby. 

"  You  did  me  a  good  turn,  just  now,"  he 
began. 

261 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Don't  mention  it,  sir ;  I've  carried  you  hoften 
before  this  evenin',  and — excuse  my  sayin'  so — I 
never  9ad  a  fare  as  tipped  'andsomer.  It's  a  real 
pleasure,  sir,  to  be  of  service." 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  Maitland,  eying  him  in 
speculative  wise.  "  I  wonder " 

The  man  was  a  rough,  burly  Englishman  of  one 
of  the  most  intelligent,  if  not  intellectual,  kind;  the 
British  cabby,  as  a  type,  has  few  superiors  for  sheer 
quickness  of  wit  and  understanding.  This  man  had 
been  sharpened  and  tempered  by  his  contact  with 
American  conditions.  His  eyes  were  shrewd,  his  face 
honest  if  weather-beaten,  his  attitude  respectful. 

"  I've  another  use  for  you  to-night,"  Maitland  de 
cided,  "if  you  are  at  liberty  and — discreet?"  The 
final  word  was  a  question,  flung  over  his  shoulder 
as  he  turned  toward  the  escritoire. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man  thoughtfully.  "  I  allub- 
can  drive,  sir,  even  when  I'm  drinkin'  'ardest  and 
can't  see  nothink." 

"Yes?  You've  been  drinking  to-night?"  Mait 
land  smiled  quietly,  standing  at  the  small  writing- 

262 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

desk  and  extracting  a  roll  of  bills  from  a  concealed 
drawer. 

"  I'm  fair  blind,  sir." 

"Very  well."  Maitland  turned  and  extended  his 
hand,  and  despite  his  professed  affliction,  the  cabby's 
eyes  bulged  as  he  appreciated  the  size  of  the  bill. 

'  My  worrd !  "  he  gasped,  stowing  it  away  in  the 
cavernous  depths  of  a  trousers  pocket. 

"  You  will  wait  outside,"  said  Maitland,  "  until  I 
come  out   or — or   send   somebody   for  you   to   take 
whiTi-vcr  directed.     Oh,  that's  all  righl- 
word !  " 

The  door  closed  behind  the  overwhelmed  night- 
hawk,  and  the  latch  clicked  loudly.  For  a  space 
Maitland  stood  in  the  hallway,  troubled,  apprehen 
sive,  heart  strangely  oppressed,  vision  clouded  by 
the  memory  of  the  girl  as  he  had  seen  her  only  a 
few  minutes  since:  as  she  had  stood  beneath  the 
chandelier,  after  acting  upon  her  primary  clear 
headed  impulse  to  give  her  rescuer  the  aid  of  the 
light. 

He  seemed  to  recall  very  clearly  her  slight  figure, 
263 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

swaying,  a-quiver  with  fright  and  solicitude, — care 
for  him! — her  face,  sensitive  and  sweet  beneath  its 
ruddy  crown  of  hair,  that  of  a  child  waking  from 
evil  dreams,  her  eyes  seeking  his  with  their  dumb 
message  of  appeal  and  of  ...  He  dared  not 
name  what  else. 

Forlorn,  pitiful,  little  figure!  Odd  it  seemed  that 
he  should  fear  to  face  her  again,  alone,  that  he 
should  linger  reluctant  to  cross  the  threshold  of  his 
study,  mistrustful  and  afraid  alike  of  himself  and 
of  her — a  thief. 

For  what  should  he  say  to  her,  other  than  the 
words  that  voiced  the  hunger  of  his  heart?  Yet  if 
he  spoke  .  .  .  words  such  as  those  to — to  a 
thief  .  .  .  what  would  be  the  end  of  it  all? 

What  did  it  matter?  Surely  he,  who  knew  the 
world  wherein  he  lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being, 
knew  bitter  well  the  worth  of  its  verdicts.  The  world 
might  go  hang,  for  all  he  cared.  At  least  his  life 
was  his  own,  whether  to  make  or  to  mar,  and  he  had 
not  to  answer  for  it  to  any  power  this  side  of  the 
gates  of  darkness.  And  if  by  any  act  of  his  the 

264 


"  DAN  " QUIXOTE 

world  should  be  given  a  man  and  a  woman  in  exchange 
for  a  thief  and  an  idler,  perhaps  in  the  final  reckon 
ing  his  life  might  not  be  accounted  altogether 
wasted.  •  .  •-. 

He  set  back  his  shoulders  and  inspired  deeply,  eyes 
lightening;  and  stepped  into  the  study,  resolved. 

"  Miss "  he  called  huskily ;  and  stopped,  re 
minded  that  not  yet  did  he  even  know  her  name. 

"  It  is  safe  now,"  he  amended,  more  clearly  and 
steadily,  "  to  come  out,  if  you  will." 

He  heard  no  response.  The  long  gleaming  folds 
of  the  portieres  hung  motionless.  Still,  a  sharp  and 
staccato  clatter  of  hoofs  that  had  risen  in  the  street, 
might  have  drowned  her  voice. 

"  If  you  please ?  "  he  said  again,  loudly. 

The  silence  sang  sibilant  in  his  ears ;  and  he  grew 
conscious  of  a  sense  of  anxiety  and  fear  stifling  in 
its  intensity. 

At  length,  striding  forward,  with  a  swift  gesture 
he  flung  the  hangings  aside. 


265 


XII 

ON     RECONSIDERATION 

Gently  but  with  decision  Sergeant  Hickey  set  his 
face  against  the  allurement  of  the  wine-cup  and  the 
importunities  of  his  fellow-officers. 

He  was  tired,  he  affirmed  with  a  weary  nod;  the 
lateness  of  the  hour  rendered  him  quite  indisposed 
for  convivial  dalliance.  Even  the  sight  of  O'Hagan, 
seduction  incarnated,  in  the  vestibule,  a  bottle  under 
either  arm,  clutching  a  box  of  cigars  jealously  with 
both  hands,  failed  to  move  the  temperate  soul. 

"  Nah,"  he  waved  temptation  aside  with  a  gesture 
of  finality.  "  I  don't  guess  I'll  take  nothin'  to-night, 
thanks.  G'night  all." 

And,  wheeling,  shaped  a  course  for  Broadway. 

The  early  morning  air  breathed  chill  but  grateful 
to  his  fevered  brow.  Oddly  enough,  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  indulged  in  no  very  violent  exercise, 
he  found  himself  perspiring  profusely.  Now  and 

266 


ON    RECONSIDERATION 

again  he  saw  fit  to  pause,  removing  his  hat  and  util 
izing  a  large  soiled  bandana  with  grim  abandon. 

At  such  times  his  face  would  be  upturned,  eyes 
trained  upon  the  dim  infinities  beyond  the  pale  moon- 
smitten  sky.  And  he  would  sigh  profoundly — not 
the  furnace  sigh  of  a  lover  thinking  of  his  mistress, 
but  the  heartfelt  and  moving  sigh  of  the  man  of  years 
and  cares  who  has  drunk  deep  of  that  cup  of  bitter 
ness  called  Unappreciated  Genius. 

Then,  tucking  the  clammy  bandana  into  a  hip 
pocket  and  withdrawing  his  yearning  gaze  from  the 
heavens,  would  struggle  on,  with  a  funereal  counte 
nance  as  the  outward  and  visible  manifestation  of  a 
mind  burdened  with  mundane  concerns:  such  as  (one 
might  shrewdly  surmise)  that  autographed  portrait 
of  a  Deputy  Commissioner  of  Police  which  the  detec 
tive's  lynx-like  eyes  had  discovered  on  Maitland's 
escritoire,  unhappily,  toward  the  close  of  their  con 
ference,  or,  possibly,  the  mighty  processes  of  de 
partmental  law,  with  its  attendant  annoyances  of 
charges  preferred,  hearings  before  an  obviously 
prejudiced  yet  high-principled  martinet,  reprimands 

267 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

and  rulings,  reductions  in  rank,  "  breaking,"  trans 
fers ;  or — yet  a  third  possibility — with  the  prevail 
ing  rate  of  wage  as  contrasted  between  detective 
and  «  sidewalk-pounder,"  and  the  cost  of  living  as 
contrasted  between  Manhattan,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
Jamaica,  Bronxville,  or  St.  George,  Staten  Island, 
on  the  other. 

A  dimly  lighted  side-entrance  presently  loomed  in 
vitingly  in  the  sergeant's  path.  He  glanced  up, 
something  surprised  to  find  himself  on  Sixth  Avenue ; 
then,  bowed  with  the  fatigue  of  a  busy  day,  turned 
aside,  entering  a  dingy  back  room  separated  from 
the  bar  proper  (at  that  illicit  hour)  by  a  curtain  of 
green  baize.  A  number  of  tables  whose  sloppy  imi 
tation  rosewood  tops  shone  dimly  in  the  murky  gas 
light,  were  set  about,  here  and  there,  for  the  accom 
modation  of  a  herd  of  sleepy-eyed,  case-hardened 
habitues. 

Into  a  vacant  chair  beside  one  of  these  the  detec 
tive  dropped,  and  familiarly  requested  the  lantern- 
jawed  waiter,  who  presently  bustled  to  his  side,  to 
"Back  meh  up  a  tub  of  suds,  George.  .  .  • 

268 


ON    RECONSIDERATION 

Nah,"   in   response  to  a  concerned  query,  "  I   ain't 
feelin'  up  to  much  to-night." 

Hat  tilted  over  his  eyes,  one  elbow  on  the  char 
back,  another  on  the  table,  flabby  jowls  quivering  as 
he  mumbled  the  indispensable  cigar,  puffy  hands 
clasped  across  his  ample  chest,  he  sat  for  many  min 
utes  by  the  side  of  his  unheeded  drink,  pondering, 
turning  over  and  over  in  his  mind  the  one  idea  it  was 
capable  of  harboring  at  a  time, 

"  He  c'u'd  've  wrote  that  letter  to  himself.  .  .  . 
He's  wise  enough.  .  .  ,  Yeh  can't  fool  Hickey 
all  the  time.  .:.  .  I'll  get  him  yet.  Gottuh 
make  good  'r  it's  the  sidewalks  f  r  mine. 
Me,  tryin'  hard  to  make  an  'onest  livin'.  .  .  . 
'Nd  him  with  all  kinds  of  money !  " 

The  fat  mottled  fingers  sought  a  waistcoat  pocket 
and,  fumbling  therein,  touched  caressingly  a  little 
pellet  of  soft  paper.  Its  possessor  did  not  require 
to  examine  it  to  reassure  himself  as  to  its  legitimacy 
as  a  work  of  art,  nor  as  to  the  prominence  of  the 
Roman  C  in  its  embellishment  of  engraved  arabesques. 

"  A  century,"  he  reflected   sullenly ;  "  one  lonely 
269 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

little  century  for  mine.  'Nd  he  had  a  wad  like  a 
ham  .  .  .  on  him.  .  .  .  'Nd  I  might  've 
had  it  all  for  my  very  own  if  .  .  ."  His  brow 
clouded  blackly. 

"  Sleuth!  "  Hickey  ground  the  epithet  vindic 
tively  between  his  teeth.  And  spat.  "  Sleuth !  Ah 
hell!" 

Recalled  to  himself  by  the  very  vehemence  of  his 
emotion,  he  turned  hastily,  drained  to  its  dregs  the 
tall  glass  of  lukewarm  and  vapid  beer  which  had 
stood  at  his  elbow,  placed  a  nickel  on  the  table,  and, 
rising,  waddled  hastily  out  into  the  night. 

It  was  being  borne  in  upon  him  with  much  force 
that  if  he  wished  to  save  his  name  and  fame  somethin' 
had  got  to  be  done  about  it. 

"  I  hadn't  oughtuh  left  him  so  long,  I  guess,"  he 
told  himself;  "but  .  .  .  I'll  get  him  all  right." 

And  turning,  lumbered  gloomily  eastward,  rapt 
with  vain  imaginings,  squat,  swollen  figure  blending 
into  the  deeper,  meaner  shadows  of  the  Tenderloin ; 
and  so  on  toward  Maitland's  rooms — morose, 
misunderstood,  malignant,  coddling  his  fictitious 

270 


ON    RECONSIDERATION 

wrongs;  somehow  pathetically  typical  of  the  force 
he  represented. 

On  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  he  paused,  startled 
fairly  out  of  his  dour  mood  by  the  loud  echo  of  a 
name  already  become  too  hatefully  familiar  to  his 
ears,  and  by  the  sight  of  what,  at  first  glance,  he 
took  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  street  brawL 


271 


XIII 

FLIGHT 

In  the  alcove  the  girl  waited,  torn  in  the  throes  of 
incipient  hysteria:  at  first  too  weak  from  reaction 
and  revulsion  of  feeling  to  do  anything  other  than 
lean  heavily  against  the  wall  and  fight  with  all  her 
strength  and  will  against  this  crawling,  shuddering, 
creeping  horror  of  nerves,  that  threatened  alike  her 
self-control,  her  consciousness,  and  her  reason. 

But  insensibly  the  tremor  wore  itself  away,  leav 
ing  her  weary  and  worn  but  mistress  of  her  thoughts 
and  actions.  And  she  dropped  with  gratitude  into 
a  chair,  bending  an  ear  attentive  to  the  war  of  words 
being  waged  in  the  room  beyond  the  portieres. 

At  first,  however,  she  failed  to  grasp  the  import 
of  the  altercation.  And  when  in  time  she  understood 
its  trend,  it  was  with  incredulity,  resentment,  and  a 
dawning  dread  lest  a  worse  thing  might  yet  befall 
her,  worse  by  far  than  aught  that  had  gone  before. 


FLIGHT 

But  to  be  deprived  of  his  protection,  to  feel  her 
self  forcibly  restrained  from  the  shelter  of  his 
generous  care ! 

A  moment  gone  she  had  been  so  sure  that  all 
would  now  be  well  with  her,  once  Maitland  suc 
ceeded  in  ridding  himself  of  the  police.  He  would 
shut  that  door  and — and  then  she  would  come  forth 
and  tell  him,  tell  him  everything,  and,  withholding 
naught  that  damned  her  in  her  own  esteem,  throw 
herself  upon  his  mercy,  bruised  with  penitence 
but  serene  in  the  assurance  that  he  would  prove 
kind. 

She  had  such  faith  in  his  tender  and  gentle  kind 
ness  now.  .  .  .  She  had  divined  so  clearly  the 
motive  that  had  permitted  Anisty's  escape  in  order 
that  she  might  be  saved,  not  alone  from  Anisty,  not 
alone  from  the  shame  of  imprisonment,  but  from  her 
self  as  well — from  herself  as  Maitland  knew  her. 
The  burglar  out  of  the  way,  by  ruse,  evasion,  or 
subterfuge  she  would  be  secreted  from  the  prying  of 
the  poh'ce,  smuggled  out  of  the  house  and  taken  to 
a  place  of  safety,  given  a  new  chance  to  redeem  her- 

273 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

self,  to  clean  her  hands  of  the  mire  of  theft,  to  be 
come  worthy  of  the  womanhood  that  was  hers.  .  .  . 

But  now — she  thrust  finger-nails  cruelly  into  her 
soft  palms,  striving  to  contain  herself  and  keep  her 
tongue  from  crying  aloud  to  those  three  brutal, 
blind  men  the  truth:  that  she  was  guilty  of  the  rob 
bery,  she  with  Anisty ;  that  Maitland  was — Mait- 
land :  a  word  synonymous  with  "  man  of  honor." 

In  the  beginning,  indeed,  all  that  restrained  her 
from  doing  so  was  her  knowledge  that  Maitland 
would  be  more  pained  by  her  sacrifice  than  glad 
dened  or  relieved.  He  was  so  sure  of  clearing  him 
self.  ...  It  was  inconceivable  to  her  that  there 
could  be  men  so  stupid  and  crassly  unobservant  as  to 
be  able  to  confuse  the  identity  of  the  two  men  for  a 
single  instant.  What  though  they  did  resemble  each 
other  in  form  and  feature?  The  likeness  went  no 
deeper :  below  the  surface,  and  rising  through  it  with 
every  word  and  look  and  gesture,  lay  a  world-wide 
gulf  of  difference  in  every  shade  of  thought,  feeling, 
and  instinct. 

She  herself  could  never  again   be  '^deceived — no, 


FLIGHT 

never !  Not  for  a  second  could  she  mistake  th» 
one  for  the  other.  .  .  .  What  were  they 
saying? 

The  turmoil  of  her  indignation  subsided  as  she  Ite- 
tened,  breathlessly,  to  Maitland's  story  of  his  ad 
ventures  ;  and  the  joy  that  leaped  in  her  for  his  frank 
mendacity  in  suppressing  every  incident  that  in 
volved  her,  was  all  but  overpowering.  She  could  have 
wept  for  sheer  happiness ;  and  at  a  later  time  she 
would ;  but  not  now,  when  everything  depended  on 
her  maintaining  the  very  silence  of  death.  .  .  . 

How  dared  they  doubt  him?  The  insolents!  The 
crude  brutish  insolence  of  them!  Her  anger  raged 
high  again  .  *  .  and  as  swiftly  was  quenched, 
extinguished  in  a  twinkling  by  a  terror  born  of  her 
excitement  and  a  bare  suggestion  thrown  out  by 
Hickey. 

".  .  .  explainin*  how  a  crook  like  Anisty  made 
three  tries  in  one  day  to  steal  some  jewels  and  didn't 
get  'em.  Where  were  they,  all  this  time?  " 

Maitland's  cool  retort  was  lost  upon  her.  What 
matter?  If  they  disbelieved  him,  persisted  in  calling 

275 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

him  Anisty,  in  natural  course  they  would  undertake 
to  search  the  flat.  And  if  she  were  found.  .  .  . 
Oh,  she  must  spare  him  that!  She  had  given  him 
cause  for  suffering  enough.  She  must  get  away,  and 
that  instantly,  before  .  .  .  From  a  distance, 
to-morrow  morning, — to-night,  even, — by  telegraph, 
she  could  communicate  with  him. 

At  this  juncture  O'Hagan  entered  with  his  parcel. 
The  rustle  of  the  paper  as  he  brushed  against  the 
door- jamb  was  in  itself  a  hint  to  a  mind  keyed  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  excitement  and  seeking  a  way  of 
escape  from  a  position  conceived  to  be,  perilous.  In 
a  trice  the  girl  had  turned  and  sped,  lightfooted,  to 
the  door  opening  on  the  private  hall. 

Here,  halting  for  a  brief  reconnaissance,  she  de 
termined  that  her  plan  was  feasible,  if  hazardous. 
She  ran  the  risk  of  encountering  some  one  ascending 
the  stairs  from  the  ground  floor;  but  if  she  were 
cautious  and  quick  she  could  turn  back  in  time.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  men  whom  she  most  feared  were 
thoroughly  occupied  with  their  differences,  dead  to 
all  save  that  which  was  happening  within  the  room's 

276 


FLIGHT 

four  walls.  A  curtain  hung  perhaps  a  third  of  the 
way  across  the  study  door,  tempering  the  light  in 
the  hall;  and  the  broad  shoulders  of  the  cabby  ob 
structed  the  remainder  of  the  opening. 

It  was  a  chance.  She  poised  herself  on  tiptoe, 
half  undecided,  and — the  rustling  of  paper  as  O'Ha- 
gan  opened  the  parcel  afforded  her  an  opportunity 
to  escape,  by  drowning  the  noise  of  her  move 
ments. 

For  two  eternal  seconds  she  was  edging  stealthily 
down  toward  the  outer  door ;  then,  in  no  time  at  all, 
found  herself  on  the  landing  and — confronted  by  a 
fresh  complication,  one  unforeseen:  how  to  leave  the 
house  without  being  observed,  stopped,  and  perhaps 
detained  until  too  late?  There  would  be  men  at  the 
door,  beyond  doubt ;  possibly  police,  stationed  there 
to  arrest  all  persons  attempting  to  leave.  .  .  . 

No  time  for  weighing  chances.  The  choice  of  two 
alternatives  lay  before  her:  either  to  return  to  the 
alcove  or  to  seek  safety  in  the  darkness  of  the  upper 
floors — untenanted,  as  she  had  been  at  pains  to  de 
termine.  The  latter  seemed  by  far  the  better,  the 

277 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

less  dangerous,  course  to  pursue.  An4  at  once  she 
took  it. 

There  was  no  light  on  the  first-floor  landing — it 
having  presumably  been  extinguished  by  the  janitor 
early  in  the  evening.  Only  a  feeble  twilight  obtained 
there,  in  part  a  reflected  glow  from  the  entrance 
hall,  partly  thin  and  diffused  rays  escaping  from 
Maitland's  study.  So  it  was  that  the  first  few  steps 
upward  took  the  girl  into  darkness  so  close  and  un 
relieved  as  to  seem  almost  palpable. 

At  the  turn  of  the  staircase  she  paused,  holding 
the  rail  and  resting  for  an  instant,  the  while  she  lis 
tened,  ere  ascending  at  a  more  sedate  pace  to  a 
haven  of  safety  more  complete  in  that  it  would  be 
more  remote  from  the  battle-ground  below. 

And,  resting  so,  was  suddenly  chilled  through  and 
through  with  fear,  sheer  childish  dread  of  the  intan 
gible  and  unknown  terrors  that  lurked  in  the  black 
ness  above  her.  It  was  as  if,  rendered  supersensi- 
tive  by  strain  and  excitement,  the  quivering  filaments 
of  her  subconsciousness,  like  spiritual  tentacles  feel 
ing  ahead  of  her,  had  encountered  and  recoiled  from 

278 


FLIGHT 

a  shape  of  evil,  a  specter  of  horror  obscene  and  ma 
lign,  crouching,  ready  to  spring,  there,  in  the  shadow 
of  night.  .  .  . 

And  her  breath  was  smothered  in  her  throat  and 
her  heart  smote  so  madly  against  the  frail  walls  of  its 
cage  that  they  seemed  like  to  burst,  while  she  stood 
transfixed,  frozen  in  inaction,  limbs  stiffening,  roots 
of  her  hair  stirring,  fingers  gripping  the  banister 
rail  until  they  pained  her;  and  with  eyes  that  stared 
wide  into  the  black  heart  of  nothingness,  until  the 
night  seemed  pricked  with  evanescent  periods  of  dim 
fire,  peopled  with  monstrous  and  terrible  shadows 
closing  about  her.  .  .  . 

Yet — it  was  absurd!  She  must  not  yield  to  such 
puerile  superstitions. 

There  was  nothing  there.     .     .     . 

There  was  something  there  .  .  .  something 
that  like  an  incarnation  of  hatred  was  stalking 
her.  .  .  . 

If  only  she  dared  scream !  If  only  she  dared  turn 
and  fly,  back  to  the  comfort  of  light  and  human 
company!  .  .  f 

279 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

There  arose  a  trampling  of  feet  in  the  hallway; 
and  she  heard  Maitland's  voice  like  a  far  echo,  as  he 
bade  the  police  good  night.  And  distant  and  un- 
reachable  as  he  seemed,  the  sound  of  his  words 
brought  her  strength  and  some  reassurance,  and  she 
grew  slightly  more  composed.  Yet,  the  instant  that 
he  had  turned  away  to  talk  to  the  cabman,  her  fright 
of  that  unspeakable  and  incorporeal  menace  flooded 
her  consciousness  like  a  great  wave,  sweeping  her — 
metaphorically — off  her  feet.  And  indeed,  for  the 
time,  she  felt  as  if  drowning,  overwhelmed  in  vast 
waters,  sinking,  sinking  into  the  black  abyss  of 
syncope. 

Then,  as  a  drowning  person — we're  told — clutches 
at  straws,  she  grasped  again  at  the  vibrations  of  his 
voice.  .  .  .  What  was  he  saying? 

"  You  will  wait  outside,  please,  until  I  come  out  or 
send  somebody,  whom  you  will  take  wherever  di 
rected.  .  .  ." 

Speaking  to  the  cabman,  thinking  of  her, 

providing  for  her  escape!  Considerate  and  fore- 
sighted  as  always!  How  she  could  have  thanked 

280 


FLIGHT 

him!  The  warmth  of  gratitude  that  enveloped  her 
almost  unnerved  her ;  she  was  put  to  it  to  restrain  her 
impulse  to  rush  down  the  stairs  and  .  .  . 

But  no;  she  must  not  risk  the  chance  of  rebuff. 
How  could  she  foretell  what  was  in  his  mind  and 
heart,  how  probe  the  depths  of  his  feeling  toward 
her?  Perhaps  he  would  receive  her  protestations  in 
skeptic  spirit.  Heaven  knew  he  had  cause  to! 
Dared  she  .  .  .  To  be  repulsed !  .  .  . 

But  no.  He  had  provided  this  means  for  flight; 
she  would  advantage  herself  of  it  and  .  .  .  and 
thank  him  by  letter.  Best  so:  for  he  must  ever 
think  the  worst  of  her ;  she  could  never  undeceive  him 
— pride  restraining  and  upholding  her. 

Better  so ;  she  would  go,  go  quickly,  before  he 
discovered  her  absence  from  the  flat. 

And  incontinently  she  swung  about  and  flew  down 
the  stairs,  silently,  treading  as  lightly  on  the  heavily 
padded  steps  as  though  she  had  been  thistledown 
whirled  adrift  by  the  wind,  altogether  heedless  of 
the  creeping  terror  she  had  sensed  on  the  upper 
flight,  careless  of  all  save  her  immediate  need  to 

281 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

reach  that  cab  before  Maitland  should  discover  that 
she  had  escaped. 

The  door  was  just  closing  behind  the  cabby  as 
she  reached  the  bottom  step;  and  she  paused,  con 
sidering  that  it  were  best  to  wait  a  moment,  at  least, 
lest  he  should  be  surprised  at  the  quickness  with 
which  his  employer  found  work  for  him ;  paused  and 
on  some  mysterious  impulse  half  turned,  glancing 
back  up  the  stairs. 

Not  a  thought  too  soon;  another  instant's  hesita 
tion  and  she  had  been  caught.  Some  one — a  man — 
was  descending;  and  rapidly.  Maitland?  Even  in 
her  brief  glance  she  saw  the  white  shield  of  a  shirt 
bosom  gleam  dull  against  the  shadows.  Maitland 
was  in  evening  dress.  Could  it  be  possible  .  .  .  ? 

No  time  now  for  conjecture,  time  now  only  for 
action.  She  sprang  for  the  door,  had  it  open  in  a 
trice,  and  before  the  cabby  was  really  enthroned 
upon  his  lofty  box,  the  girl  was  on  the  step,  fair 
troubled  face  upturned  to  him  in  wild  entreaty. 

"  Hurry !  "  she  cried,  distracted.  "  Drive  off,  at 
once !  Please — oh,  please !  " 


FLIGHT 

Perhaps  the  man  had  expected  something  of  the 
sort,  analyzing  Maitland's  words  and  manner.  At 
all  events  he  was  quick  to  appreciate.  This  was 
what  he  had  been  engaged  for  and  what  he  had  been 
paid  for  royally,  in  advance. 

Seizing  reins  and  whip,  he  jerked  the  startled 
animal  between  the  shafts  out  of  its  abstraction 
and 

"  I  say,  cabby !     One  moment !  " 

The  cabman  turned;  the  figure  on  the  stoop  of 
the  house  was  undoubtedly  Maitland's — Maitland  as 
he  had  just  seen  him,  with  the  addition  of  a  hat.  As 
he  looked  the  man  was  at  the  wheel,  clambering  in. 

"  Changed  my  mind — I'm  coming  along,  cabby," 
he  said  cheerfully.  "  Drive  us  to  the  St.  Luke  Build 
ing,  please  and — hurry !  " 

"Yessir!" 

Bitter  as  poverty  the  cruel  lash  cut  round  the 
horse's  flanks;  and  as  the  hansom  shot  out  at  break 
neck  speed  toward  Fifth  Avenue,  the  girl  cowered 
back  in  her  corner,  shivering,  staring  wide-eyed  at 
the  man  who  had  so  coolly  placed  himself  at  her  side. 

283 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

This,  then,  was  that  nameless  danger  that  had 
stalked  her  on  the  staircase,  this  the  personality 
whose  animosity  toward  her  had  grown  so  virulent 
that,  even  when  consciously  ignorant  of  its  prox 
imity,  she  had  been  repelled  and  frightened  by  its 
subtle  emanations!  And  now — and  now  she  was  in 
his  power! 

Dazed  with  fear  she  started  up,  acting  blindly  on 
the  primitive  instinct  to  fly ;  and  in  another  moment, 
doubtless,  would  have  thrown  herself  boldly  from 
the  cab  to  the  sidewalk,  had  her  companion  not 
seized  her  by  the  forearm  and  by  simple  force  com 
pelled  her  to  resume  her  seat. 

"  Be  still,  you  little  fool !  "  he  told  her  sharply. 
"  Do  you  think  that  I'm  going  to  let  you  go  a  third 
time?  Not  till  I'm  through  with  you.  .  .  .  And 
if  you  scream,  by  the  powers,  I'll  throttle  you ! " 


284 


XIV 

EETRIBUTION 

She  sank  back,  speechless.  Anisty  glanced  her  up 
and  down  without  visible  emotion,  then  laughed  un 
pleasantly, — the  hard  and  unyielding  laugh  of  brute 
man  brutishly  impassioned. 

"This  silly  ass,  Maitland,"  he  observed,  "isn't 
really  as  superfluous  as  he  seems.  /  find  him  quite 
a  convenience,  and  I  suppose  that  ought  to  be  totted 
up  to  his  credit,  since  it's  because  he's  got  the  good 
taste  to  resemble  me.  .  .  .  Consider  his  thought- 
fulness  in  providing  me  this  cab !  What'd  I've 
done  without  it?  To  tell  the  truth  I  was  quite  at 
a  loss  to  frame  it  up,  how  to  win  your  coy  consent 
to  this  giddy  elopement,  back  there  in  the  hall.  But 
dear  kind  Mis-ter  Maitland,  bless  his  innocent 
heart!  fixes  it  all  up  for  me.  .  .  .  And  so,"  con 
cluded  the  criminal  with  ironic  relish, — "  and  so 
I've  got  yoiiy  my  lady." 

285 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

He  looked  at  her  in  sidelong  fashion,  speculative, 
calculating,  relentless.  And  she  bowed  her  head,  as 
senting,  "  Yes " 

"  You're  dead  right,  little  woman.  Got  you. 
Um-mmm." 

She  made  no  reply;  she  could  have  made  none 
aside  from  raising  an  outcry,  although  now  she  was 
regaining  something  of  her  shattered  poise,  and  with 
it  the  ability  to  accept  the  situation  quietly,  for  a 
little  time  (she  could  not  guess  how  long  she  could 
endure  the  strain),  pending  an  opportunity  to  turn 
the  tables  on  this,  her  persecutor. 

"  What  is  it,"  she  said  presently,  with  some  ef 
fort — "  what  is  it  you  wish  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  my  purpose,"  with  a  grim  smile. 

"You  will  not  tell  me?" 

"  You've  guessed  it,  my  lady ;  I  will  not — just  yet. 
Wait  a  bit." 

She  spurred  her  flagging  spirit  until  it  flashed  de 
fiance.  "Mr.  Anisty!" 

"Yes?"  he  responded  with  a  curling  lip,  cold 
eyes  to  hers. 

286 


RETRIBUTION 


"  I  demand- 


"  No  you  don't !  "  he  cut  her  short  with  a  snarl. 
"  You're  not  in  a  position  to  demand  anything. 
Maybe  it  would  be  as  well  for  you  to  remember  who 
you're  dealing  with." 

"  And ?  " — heart  sinking  again. 

"  And  I've  been  made  a  fool  of  just  as  long  as  I 
can  stand  for  it.  I'm  a  crook — like  yourself,  my 
lady,  but  with  more  backbone  and  some  pride  in  be 
ing  at  the  head  of  my  profession.  I'm  wanted  in  a 
dozen  places;  I'll  spend  the  rest  of  my  days  in  the 
pen,  if  they  ever  get  me.  Twice  to-day  I've  been 
within  an  ace  of  being  nabbed — kindness  of  you  and 
your  Maitland.  Now — I'm  desperate  and  deter 
mined.  Do  you  connect?" 

"  What ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"  I  can  make  you  understand,  I  fancy.  To 
night,  instead  of  dropping  to  the  back  yard  and 
shinning  over  the  fences  to  safety,  I  took  the  fire- 
escape  up  to  the  top-flat — something  a  copper 
would  never  think  of — and  went  through  to  the 
hall.  Why?  Why,  to  interrupt  the  tender  tete- 

287 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

a-tete  Maitland  had  planned.  Why  again?  Be 
cause,  for  one  thing,  I've  never  yet  been  beaten  at 
my  own  game;  and  I'm  too  old  a  dog  to  learn  new 
tricks.  Moreover,  no  man  yet  has  ever  laid  hands 
on  me  in  anger  and  not  regretted  it."  The  crim 
inal's  voice  fell  a  note  or  two,  shaking  with  somber 
passion.  "  I'll  have  that  pup's  hide  yet !  "  he  swore. 

The  girl  tried  to  nerve  herself.  "  It — it  doesn't 
seem  to  strike  you,"  she  argued,  controlling  her 
hysteria  by  sheer  strength  of  purpose,  "  that  I 
have  only  to  raise  my  voice  to  bring  all  Broadway 
to  my  rescue." 

For  by  now  the  cab  had  sheered  off  into  that 
thoroughfare,  and  was  rocking  rapidly  south,  be 
tween  glittering  walls  of  light.  A  surface  car 
swooped  down  upon  them,  and  past,  making  night 
hideous  with  gong  and  drumming  trucks,  and 
drowning  Anisty's  response.  For  which  reason  he 
chose  to  repeat  it,  with  added  emphasis. 

"  You  try  it  on,  my  lady,  and  see  what  happens." 

She  had  no  answer  ready,  and  he  proceeded,  after 
waiting  a  moment :  "  But  you're  not  going  to  be 

288 


RETRIBUTION 

such  a  fool.  You  have  no  pleasure  in  the  prospect 
of  seeing  the  inside  of  the  Tombs,  yourself;  and, 
besides,  you  ought  to  know  me  well  enough  to 
know.  .  .  ." 

"  What?  "  she  breathed,  in  spite  of  herself. 

Anisty  folded  his  arms,  thrusting  the  right  hand 
beneath  his  coat. 

"  Maitland  got  only  one  of  my  guns,"  he  an 
nounced  ironically.  "  He'd  've  got  the  contents  of 
the  other,  only  he  chose  to  play  the  fool  and  into  my 
hands.  Now  I  guess  you  understand," — and  turn 
ing  his  head  he  fixed  her  with  an  inflexible  glare,  chill 
and  heartless  as  steel, — "  that  one  squeal  out  of  you 
will  be  the  last.  Oh,  I've  got  no  scruples ;  arrest  to 
me  means  a  living  death.  I'll  take  a  shorter  course, 
by  preference,  and — I'll  take  you  with  me  for 
company." 

"  You — you  mean  you  would  shoot  me?  "  she  whis 
pered,  incredulous. 

"  Like  a  dog,"  he  returned  with  unction. 

"  You,  a  man,  would — would  shoot  a  woman  ?  " 

"  You're  not  a  woman,  my  lady :  you're  a  crook, 
289 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Just  as  I'm  not  a  man:  I'm  a  crook.  We're  equals, 
sexless,  soulless.  You  seem  to  have  overlooked  that. 
Amateurs  often  do.  .  .  .  To-night  I  made  you 
a  fair  proposition,  to  play  square  with  me  and 
profit.  You  chose  to  be  haughty.  Now  you  see 
the  other  side  of  the  picture." 

Bravado?  Or  deadly  purpose?  How  could  she 
tell?  Her  heart  misgave  her;  she  crushed  herself 
away  from  him  as  from  some  abnormally  vicious, 
loathly  reptile. 

He  understood  this;  and  regarded  her  with  a 
confident  leer,  inscrutably  strong  and  malevolent. 

"  And  there  is  one  other  reason  why  you  will 
think  twice  before  making  a  row,"  he  clinched  his 
case.  "  If  you  did  that,  and  I  weakly  permitted 
the  police  to  nab  and  walk  us  off,  the  business  would 
get  in  the  papers — your  name  and  all;  and — what'd 
Maitland  think  of  you  then,  my  lady?  What'd  he 
think  when  he  read  that  Dan  Anisty  had  been 
pinched  on  Broadway  in  company  with  the  little 
woman  he'd  been  making  eyes  at — whom  he  was 
going,  in  his  fine  manlike  way,  to  reach  down  a 

290 


RETRIBUTION 

hand  to  and  yank  up  out  of  the  gutter  and  redeem 
and— and  all  that  slush?  Eh?" 

And  again  his  low  evil  laugh  made  her  shudder. 
"  Now,  you  won't  risk  that.  You'll  come  with  me 
and  behave,  I  guess,  all  right." 

She  was  dumb,  stupefied  with  misery. 

He  turned  upon  her  sharply. 

"Well?" 

Her  lips  moved  in  soundless  assent, — lips  as  pallid 
and  bloodless  as  the  wan  young  face  beneath  the 
small  inconspicuous  hat. 

The  man  grunted  impatiently;  yet  was  satisfied, 
knowing  that  he  had  her  now  completely  under  con 
trol  :  a  condition  not  hard  to  bring  about  in  a  woman 
who,  like  this,  was  worn  out  with  physical  fatigue 
and  overwrought  with  nervous  strain.  The  condi 
tions  had  been  favorable,  the  result  was  preemi 
nently  comfortable.  She  would  give  him  no  more 
trouble. 

The  hansom  swerved  suddenly  across  the  car- 
tracks  and  pulled  up  at  the  curb.  Anisty  rose  with 
an  exclamation  of  relief  and  climbed  down  to  the 

291 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

sidewalk,  turning  and  extending  a  hand  to  assist 
the  girl. 

"  Come !  "  he  said  imperatively.  "  We've  no  time 
to  waste." 

For  an  instant  only  she  harbored  a  fugitive 
thought  of  resistance;  then  his  eyes  met  hers  and 
held  them,  and  her  mind  seemed  to  go  blank  under 
his  steadfast  and  domineering  regard.  "  Come ! " 
he  repeated  sharply.  Trembling,  she  placed  a  hand 
in  his  and  somehow  found  herself  by  his  side.  Re 
gardless  of  appearances  the  man  retained  her  hand, 
merely  shifting  it  beneath  his  arm,  where  a  firm 
pressure  of  the  elbow  held  it  as  in  a  vise. 

"  You  needn't  wait,"  he  said  curtly  to  the  cabby ; 
and  swung  about,  the  girl  by  his  side. 

"  No  nonsense  now,"  he  warned  her  tensely,  again 
thrusting  a  hand  in  his  breast  pocket  signifi 
cantly. 

"  I  understand,"  she  breathed  faintly,  between 
closed  teeth. 

She  had  barely  time  to  remark  the  towering  white 
of  upper  Broadway's  tallest  sky-scraper  ere 


RETRIBUTION 

she  was  half  led,  half  dragged  into  the  entrance  of 
the  building. 

The  marble  slabs  of  the  vestibule  echoed  strangely 
to  their  footsteps — those  slabs  that  shake  from  dawn 
to  dark  with  the  tread  of  countless  feet.  They 
moved  rapidly  toward  the  elevator-shaft,  passing 
on  their  way  deserted  cigar-  and  news-stands 
shrouded  in  dirty  brown  clothes.  By  the  dark  and 
silent  well,  where  the  six  elevators  (of  which  one 
only  was  a-light  and  ready  for  use)  stood  motionless 
as  if  slumbering  in  utter  weariness  after  the  gigantic 
exertions  of  the  day,  they  came  to  a  halt;  and  a 
chair  was  scraped  noisily  on  the  floor  as  a  night- 
watchman  rose,  rubbing  his  eyes  and  yawning,  to 
face  them. 

Anisty  opened  the  interview  brusquely.  "  Is  Mr. 
Bannerman  in  now?"  he  demanded. 

The  watchman  opened  his  eyes  wider,  losing  some 
of  his  sleepy  expression ;  and  observed  the  speaker 
and  his  companion — the  small,  shrinking,  fright 
ened-looking  little  woman  who  bore  so  heavily  on  her 
escort's  arm,  as  if  ready  to  drop  with  exhaustion. 

293 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

It  appeared  that  he  knew  Maitland  by  sight,  or 
else  thought  that  he  did. 

"  Oh,  ye're  Mister  Maitland,  aint  yous  ?  "  he  said. 
"  Nope ;  if  Misther  Bannerman's  in  his  offis,  I  dunno 
nothin'  about  it." 

"  He  was  to  meet  me  here  at  two,"  Anisty  affirmed. 
"  It's  a  very  important  case.  I'm  sure  he  must 
be  along,  immediately,  if  he's  not  up-stairs.  You're 
sure ?  " 

"  Nah,  I  ain't  sure.  He  may  've  been  there  all 
night,  f'r  all  I  know.  But  I'll  take  yous  up  'f  you 
want,"  with  a  doubtful  glance  at  the  girl. 

"  This  lady  is  one  of  Mr.  Bannerman's  clients, 
and  in  great  trouble."  The  self-styled  Maitland 
laid  his  hand  in  a  protecting  gesture  over  the  fingers 
on  his  arm ;  and  pressed  them  cruelly.  "  I  think  we 
will  go  up,  thank  you.  If  Bannerman's  not  in,  I 
can  'phone  him.  I've  a  pass-key." 

The  watchman  appeared  satisfied:  Maitland's 
social  standing  was  guaranty  enough. 

"  All  right,  sir.     Step  in." 

The    girl    made    one   final   effort   to   hang   back. 


RETRIBUTION 

Anisty's  brows  blackened.  "  By  God !  "  he  told  her 
in  a  whisper.  "  If  you  dare  .  .  . !  " 

And  somehow  she  found  herself  at  his  side  in 
the  steel  cage,  the  gate's  clang  ringing  loud  in  her 
ears.  The  motion  of  the  car,  shooting  upwards 
with  rapidly  increasing  speed,  made  her  slightly 
giddy.  Despite  Anisty's  supporting  arm  she  reeled 
back  against  the  wall  of  the  cage,  closing  her  eyes. 
The  man  observed  this  with  covert  satisfaction. 

As  the  speed  decreased  she  began  to  feel  slightly 
stronger ;  and  again  opened  her  eyes.  The  floor 
numbers,  black  upon  a  white  ground,  were  steadily 
slipping  down;  the  first  she  recognized  being  19. 
The  pace  was  sensibly  decreased.  Then  with  a  slight 
jar  the  elevator  stopped  at  22. 

"  Yous  know  the  way  ?  " 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Anisty.  "Two  flights  up 
— in  the  tower." 

"  Right.    When  yous  wants  me,  ring." 

The  car  dropped  like  a  plummet,  leaving  them 
in  darkness — or  rather  in  a  thick  gloom  but  slightly 
moderated  by  the  moonlight  streaming  in  at  win- 

295 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

dows  at  either  end  of  the  corridor.  Anisty  gripped 
the  girl  more  roughly. 

"  Now,  my  lady !     No  shennanigan !  " 

A  futile,  superfluous  reminder.  Temporarily  at 
least  she  was  become  as  wax  in  his  hands.  So  com 
plex  had  been  the  day's  emotions,  so  severe  her 
nervous  tension,  so  heavy  the  tax  upon  her  stamina, 
that  she  had  lapsed  into  a  state  of  subjective  con 
sciousness,  in  which  she  responded  without  purpose, 
almost  dreamily,  to  the  suggestions  of  the  stronger 
will. 

Wearily  she  stumbled  up  the  two  brief  flights  of 
stairs  leading  to  the  tower-like  cupola  of  the  sky 
scraper:  two  floors  superimposed  upon  the  roof  with 
scant  excuse  save  that  of  giving  the  building  the 
distinction  of  being  the  loftiest  in  that  section  of 
the  city — certainly  not  to  lend  any  finishing  touch 
of  architectural  beauty  to  the  edifice. 

On  the  top  landing  a  door  confronted  them,  its 
glass  panel  shining  dimly  in  the  darkness.  Anisty 
paused,  unceremoniously  thrusting  the  girl  to  one 
side  and  away  from  the  head  of  the  staircase;  and 

296 


RETRIBUTION 

fumbled  in  a  pocket,  presently  producing  a  jing 
ling  bunch  of  keys.  For  a  moment  or  two  she  heard 
him  working  at  the  lock  and  muttering  in  an  under 
tone, — probably  swearing, — and  then,  with  a  click, 
the  door  swung  open. 

The  man  thrust  a  hand  inside,  touched  an  electric 
switch,  flooding  the  room  with  light,  and  motioned 
the  girl  to  enter.  She  obeyed  passively,  thoroughly 
subjugated:  and  found  herself  in  a  large  and  well- 
furnished  office,  apparently  the  outer  of  two  rooms. 
The  glare  of  electric  light  at  first  partly  blinded 
her;  and  she  halted  instinctively  a  few  steps  from 
the  door,  waiting  for  her  eyes  to  become  accustomed 
to  the  change. 

Behind  her  the  door  was  closed  softly;  and  there 
followed  a  thud  as  a  bolt  was  shot.  An  instant 
later  Anisty  caught  her  by  the  arm  and,  roughly 
now  and  without  wasting  speech,  hurried  her  into 
the  next  room.  Then,  releasing  her,  he  turned  up 
the  lights  and,  passing  to  the  windows,  threw  two 
or  three  of  them  wide;  for  the  air  in  the  room  was 
stale  and  lifeless. 

297 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  And  now,"  said  the  criminal  in  a  tone  of  satis 
faction,  "  now  we  can  talk  business,  my  dear." 

He  removed  his  overcoat  and  hat,  throwing  them 
over  the  back  of  a  convenient  chair,  drew  his  fingers 
thoughtfully  across  his  chin,  and,  standing  at  a 
little  distance,  regarded  the  girl  with  a  shadow  of 
a  saturnine  smile  softening  the  hard  line  of  his  lips. 

She  stood  where  he  had  left  her,  as  if  volition 
was  no  longer  hers.  Her  arms  hung  slack  at  her 
sides  and  she  was  swaying  a  trifle,  her  face  vacant, 
eyes  blank:  very  near  the  breaking-down  point. 

The  man  was  not  without  perception;  and  recog 
nized  her  state — one  in  which,  he  felt  assured,  he 
could  get  very  little  out  of  her.  She  must  be 
strengthened  and  revived  before  she  would  or  could 
respond  to  the  direct  catechism  he  had  in  store  for 
her.  In  his  own  interest,  therefore,  more  than 
through  any  yielding  to  motives  of  pity  and  com 
passion,  he  piloted  her  to  a  chair  by  a  window  and 
brought  her  a  glass  of  clear  cold  water  from  the 
filter  in  the  adjoining  room. 

The  cold,  fresh  breeze  blowing  in  her  face  proved 
298 


RETRIBUTION 

wonderfully  invigorating.  She  let  her  head  sink 
back  upon  the  cushions  of  the  easy,  comfortable 
leather  chair  and  drank  in  the  clean  air  in  great 
deep  draughts,  with  a  sense  of  renewing  vigor,  both 
bodily  and  spiritual.  The  water  helped,  too:  she 
dabbled  the  tip  of  a  ridiculously  small  handkerchief 
in  it  and  bathed  her  throbbing  temples.  The  while, 
Anisty  stood  over  her,  waiting  with  discrimination 
if  with  scant  patience. 

What  was  to  come  she  neither  knew  nor  greatly 
cared;  but,  with  an  instinctive  desire  to  postpone  the 
inevitable  moment  of  trial,  she  simulated  deadly 
languor  for  some  moments  after  becoming  conscious 
of  her  position :  and  lay  passive,  long  lashes  all  but 
touching  her  cheeks, — in  which  now  a  faint  color 
was  growing, — gaze  wandering  at  random  out  over 
a  dreary  wilderness  of  flat  rectangular  roofs,  livid 
in  the  moonlight,  broken  by  long,  straight  clefts  of 
darkness  in  whose  depths  lights  gleamed  faintly. 
Far  in  the  south  the  sky  came  down  purple  and 
black  to  the  horizon,  where  a  silver  spark  glittered 
like  a  low-swung  star :  the  torch  of  Liberty.  .  .  . 

299 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  I  think,"  Anisty's  clear-cut  tones,  incisive  as  a 
razor  edge,  crossed  the  listless  trend  of  her  thoughts : 
"  I  think  we  will  now  get  down  to  business,  my 
lady ! " 

She  lifted  her  lashes,  meeting  his  masterful  stare 
with  a  look  of  calm  inquiry.  "  Well?  " 

"  So  you're  better  now?  .  .  .  Possibly  it 
was  a  mistake  to  give  you  that  rest,  my  lady.  Still, 

when  one's  a  gentleman-cracksman ! "  He 

chuckled  unpleasantly,  not  troubling  to  finish  his 
sentence. 

"Well?"  he  mocked,  seating  himself  easily  upon 
an  adj  acent  table.  "  We're  here  at  last,  where  we'll 
suffer  no  interruptions  to  our  little  council  of  war. 
Beyond  the  watchman,  there's  probably  not  another 
soul  in  the  building;  and  from  that  window  there  it 
is  a  straight  drop  of  twenty-four  stories  to  Broad 
way,  while  I'm  between  you  and  the  door.  So  you 
may  be  resigned  to  stay  here  until  I  get  ready  to 
let  you  go.  If  you  scream  for  help,  no  one  will  hear 
you." 

"  Very  well,"  she  assented  mechanically,  turning 
300 


RETRIBUTION 

her  head  away  with  a  shiver  of  disgust.     "  What  is 
it  you  want?  " 

"The  jewels,"  he  said  bluntly.  "You  might 
have  guessed  that." 

"  I  did      .     .     ." 

"  And  have  saved  yourself  and  me  considerable 
trouble  by  speaking  ten  minutes  ago." 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed  abstractedly. 

"  Now,"  he  continued  with  a  hint  of  anger  in  his 
voice,  "  you  are  going  to  tell." 

She  shook  her  head  slightly. 

"  Oh,  but  you  are,  my  lady."  And  his  tone 
rasped,  quickened  with  the  latent  brutality  of  the 
natural  criminal.  "  And  I  know  that  you'll  not 
force  me  to  extreme  measures.  It  wouldn't  be 
pleasant  for  you,  you  know;  and  I  promise  you 
I  shall  stop  at  nothing  whatever  to  make  you 
speak." 

No  answer;  in  absolute  indifference,  she  felt,  lay 
her  strongest  weapon.  She  must  keep  calm  and 
self-possessed,  refusing  to  be  terrified  into  a  quick 
and  thoughtless  answer. 

301 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  This  afternoon,"  he  said  harshly,  "  you  stole 
from  me  the  Maitland  jewels.  Where  are  they?  " 

« I  shall  not  tell." 

He  bent  swiftly  forward  and  took  one  of  her 
hands  in  his.  Instinctively  she  clenched  it;  and  he 
wrapped  his  strong*  hard  fingers  around  the  small 
white  fist,  then  deliberately  inserted  a  hard  finger 
joint  between  her  second  and  third  knuckles,  slowly 
increasing  the  pressure.  And  watched  with  abso 
lute  indifference  the  lines  of  agony  grave  themselves 
upon  her  smooth  unwrinkled  forehead,  and  the  color 
leave  her  cheeks,  as  the  pain  grew  too  exquisite. 
Then,  suddenly  discontinuing  the  pressure,  but  re 
taining  her  hand,  he  laughed  shortly. 

"Will  you  speak,  my  lady,  or  will  you  have 
more?" 

"Don't,"   she   gasped,   "please     .     .     *!" 

"Where  are  the  jewels?     Will  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Have  you  given  them  to  Maitland?  " 

"  No." 

"Where  are  they?" 


RETRIBUTION 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Stop  that  nonsense  unless  .  .  .  Where  did 
you  leave  them?  " 

"  I  won't  tell — I  won't.  .  .  .  Ah,  please, 
please!  " 

"Tell  me!" 

"Never.     .     .     .     Ah-h!     .     .     .'» 

An  abrupt  and  resounding  hammering  at  the 
outer  door  forced  him  to  leave  off.  He  dropped 
her  hand  with  an  oath  and  springing  to  his  feet 
drew  his  revolver;  then,  with  a  glance  at  the  girl, 
who  was  silently  weeping,  tears  of  pain  rolling  down 
her  cheeks,  mouth  set  in  a  thin  pale  line  of  deter 
mination,  strode  out  and  shut  the  door  after  him. 

As  it  closed  the  girl  leaped  to  her  feet,  maddened 
with  torture,  wild  eyes  casting  about  the  room  for 
a  weapon  of  some  sort,  of  offense  or  defense ;  for 
she  could  not  have  endured  the  torture  an  instant 
longer.  If  forced  to  it,  to  fight,  fight  she  would. 
If  only  she  had  something,  a  stick  of  wood,  to  de 
fend  herself  with.  ...  But  there  was  nothing, 
nothing  at  all. 

303 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

The  room  was  a  typical  office,  well  but  severely 
furnished.  The  rug  that  covered  the  tile  floor  was 
of  rich  quality  and  rare  design.  The  neutral-tinted 
walls  were  bare,  but  for  a  couple  of  steel  engravings 
in  heavy  wooden  frames.  There  were  three  heavily 
upholstered  leather  arm-chairs  and  one  revolving 
desk-chair;  a  roll-top  desk,  against  the  partition 
wall,  a  waste-paper  basket,  and  a  flat-topped  desk, 
or  table.  And  that  was  all. 

Or  not  quite  all,  else  the  office  equipment  had  not 
been  complete.  There  was  the  telephone! 

But  he  would  hear!  Or  was  the  partition  sound 
proof? 

As  if  in  contradiction  of  the  suggestion,  there 
came  to  her  ears  very  clearly  the  sound  of  the  hall 
door  creaking  on  its  hinges,  and  then  a  man's  voice, 
shrill  with  anger  and  anxiety. 

"  You  fool !  Do  you  want  to  ruin  us  both? 
What  do  you  mean " 

The  door  crashed  to,  interrupting  the  protest  and 
drowning  Anisty's  reply. 

"  I  was  passing,"  the  new  voice  took  up  its  plain- 
304 


RETRIBUTION 

tive   remonstrance,   "  and   the   watchman   called   me 
in  and  said  that  you  were  telephoning  for  me " 

"  Damn  the  interfering  fool !  "  interrupted  Anisty. 

"But  what's  this  insanity,  Anisty?     What's  this 

about    a    woman?     What "     The    new-comer's 

tones  ascended  a  high  scale  of  fright  and  rage. 

"  Lower  your  voice,  you  ass !  "  the  burglar  re 
sponded  sternly.  "  And " 

He  took  his  own  advice;  and  for  a  little  time  the 
conference  was  conducted  in  guarded  tones  that  did 
not  penetrate  the  dividing  wall  save  as  a  deep 
rumbling  alternating  with  an  impassioned  squeak. 

But  long  ere  this  had  come  to  pass  the  girl  was 
risking  all  at  the  telephone.  Receiver  to  ear  she 
was  imploring  Central  to  connect  her  with  Ninety- 
eighty-nine  Madison.  If  only  she  might  get  Mait- 
land,  tell  him  where  the  jewels  were  hidden,  warn 
him  to  remove  them — then  she  could  escape  further 
suffering  by  open  confession.  .  .  . 

"  What  number?  "  came  Central's  languid  query, 
after  a  space.  "  Did  you  say  Nine-ought-nine- 
eight? " 

305 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  No,  no,  Central.  Nine-o-eight-nine  Madison, 
please,  and  hurry hurry  !  " 

"  Ah,  I'm  ringin'  'em.  They  ain't  answered  yet. 
Gimme  time.  .  .  .  There  they  are.  Go  ahead." 

"  Hello,  hello  !  " 

"Pwhat  is  ut?" 

Her  heart  sank:  O'Hagan's  voice  meant  that 
Maitland  was  out. 

"O'Hagan— is  that  you?  .  .  .  Tell  Mr. 
Maitland " 

"  He's  gawn  out  for  the  noight  an' " 

"Tell  him,  please " 

"  But  he's  out.     Ring  up  in  the  marnin'." 

"  But  can't  you  take  this  message  for  him? 
Please.  .  .  ." 

The  door  was  suddenly  jerked  open  and  Anisty 
leaped  into  the  room,  face  white  with  passion.  Ter 
rified,  the  girl  sprang  from  the  desk,  carrying  the 
instrument  with  her,  placing  the  revolving  chair 
between  her  and  her  enemy. 

"  The  brass  bowl,  please, — tell  him  that,"  she 
cried  clearly  into  the  receiver. 

306 


RETRIBUTION 

And  Anisty  was  upon  her,  striking  the  telephone 
from  her  grasp  with  one  swift  blow  and  seizing  her 
savagely  by  the  wrist.  As  the  instrument  clattered 
and  pounded  on  the  floor  she  was  sent  reeling  and 
staggering  half-way  across  the  room. 

As  she  brought  up  against  the  flat-topped  desk, 
catching  its  edge  and  saving  herself  a  fall,  the 
burglar  caught  up  the  telephone. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  shouted  imperatively  into 
the  transmitter. 

Whatever  the  reply,  it  seemed  to  please  him.  His 
brows  cleared,  the  wrath  that  had  made  his  face 
almost  unrecognizable  subsided;  he  even  smiled. 
And  the  girl  trembled,  knowing  that  he  had  solved 
her  secret ;  for  she  had  hoped  against  hope  that  the 
only  words  he  could  have  heard  her  speak  would 
have  had  too  cryptic  a  significance  for  his  com 
prehension. 

As,  slowly  and  composedly,  he  replaced  the  re 
ceiver  on  its  hook  and  returned  the  instrument  to 
the  desk,  a  short  and  rotund  figure  of  a  man,  in 
rumpled  evening  dress  and  wearing  a  wilted  collar, 

307 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hopped  excitedly  into  the  room,  cast  at  the  girl 
one  terrified  glance  out  of  eyes  that  glittered  with 
excitement  like  black  diamonds,  set  in  a  face  the  hue 
of  yeast,  and  clutched  the  burglar's  arm. 

"  Oh,  Anisty,  Anisty ! "  he  cried  piteously. 
"  What  is  it?  What  is  it?  Tell  me !  " 

"  It's  all  right,"  returned  the  burglar.  "  Don't 
you  worry,  little  man.  Pull  yourself  together." 
And  laughed. 

"  But  what — what "  stammered  the  other. 

"  Only  that  she's  given  herself  away,"  chuckled 
Anisty :  "  beautifully  and  completely.  '  The  brass 
bowl,'  says  she, — thinking  I  never  saw  one  on  Mait- 
land's  desk ! — and  '  O'Hagan,  and  who  the  divvle 
are  you?  '  says  the  man  on  the  other  end  of  the 
wire,  when  I  ask  who  he  is." 

"  And?  And?  "  pleaded  the  little  man,  dancing 
with  worry. 

"  And  it  means  that  my  lady  here  returned  the 
jewels  to  Maitland  by  hiding  them  under  a  brass 
ash-receiver  on  his  desk — ass  that  I  was  not  to 
know !  .  .  .  You  are  'cute,  my  lady ! "  with  an 

308 


RETRIBUTION 

ironic  salute  to  the  girl,  "  but  you've  met  your 
match  in  Anisty." 

"  And,"  demanded  the  other  as  the  burglar 
snatched  up  his  hat  and  coat,  "  what  will  you  do, 
Anisty?" 

"Do?" — contemptuously.  "Why,  what  is  there 
to  do  but  go  and  get  them?  We've  risked  too  much 
and  made  New  York  too  hot  for  the  two  of  us,  my 
dear  sir,  to  get  out  of  the  game  without  the  profits." 

"  But  I  beg  of  you " 

"  You  needn't," — grimly.  "  It  won't  bring  you 
in  any  money." 

"  But  Maitland " 


"  Is  out.  O'Hagan  answered  the  'phone.  Don't 
you  understand?" 

"  But  he  may  return !  " 

"  That's  his  lookout.  I'm  sorry  for  him  if  he 
does."  Anisty  produced  the  revolver  from  his 
pocket,  and  twirled  the  cylinder  significantly.  "  I 
owe  Mr.  Maitland  something,"  he  said,  nodding  to 
the  white-faced  girl  by  the  table,  "  and  I  shouldn't 

be  sorry  to " 

309 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  And  what,"  broke  in  the  new-comer,  "  wrhat  am 
I  going  to  do  meanwhile?  " 

"  Devil  the  bit  7  care !  Stay  here  and  keep  this 
Impetuous  female  from  calling  up  Police  Headquar 
ters,  for  a  good  guess.  .  .  .  Speaking  of  which, 
I  think  we  had  best  settle  this  telephone  business 
once  and  for  all." 

The  burglar  turned  again  to  the  desk  and  began 
to  work  over  the  instrument  with  a  small  screw 
driver  which  he  produced  from  his  coat  pocket, 
talking  the  while. 

"  Our  best  plan,  my  dear  Bannerman,  is  for  you 
to  come  with  me,  at  least  as  far  as  the  nearest 
corner.  You  can  wait  there,  if  you're  too  cowardly 
to  go  the  limit,  like  a  man.  .  .  .  I'll  get  the 
loot  and  join  you,  and  we  can  make  a  swift  hike 
for  the  first  train  that  goes  farthest  out  of  town. 
...  A  pity,  for  we've  done  pretty  well,  you 
and  I,  old  boy:  you  with  your  social  entree  and 
bump  of  locality  to  locate  the  spoils,  me  with  my 
courage  and  skill  to  lift  'em,  and  an  equitable 
division.  .  .  .  Oh,  don't  worry  about  her,  Ban- 

310 


RETRIBUTION 

nerman !  She's  as  deep  in  it  as  either  of  us,  only 
she  happens  to  be  sentimental,  and  an  outsider  on 
this  deal.  She  won't  blah.  Besides,  you're  ruined 
anyway,  as  far  as  New  York's  concerned.  .  i  . 
Come  along.  That's  finished:  she  won't  send  any 
important  messages  over  that  wire  to-night,  I 
guess.  .  .  . 

"  My  dear  young  lady ! "  Rising  and  throwing 
the  overcoat  over  his  arm,  he  waved  his  hat  at  her 
in  sardonic  courtesy.  "  I  can't  say  it  has  been  a 
pleasure  to  know  you  but — you  have  made  it  inter- 
<>iing,  I  admit.  And  I  bid  you  a  very  good  night. 
The  charwoman  will  let  you  out  when  she  comes  to 
i-lean  up  in  the  morning.  Adieu,  my  dear !  " 

The  little  man  bustled  after  him,  bleating  and 
fidgeting ;  and  the  lock  clicked. 

She  was  alone  .  .  .  utterly  and  forlornly 
alone  .  .  .  and  had  lost  .  .  .  lost  all,  all 
that  she  had  prized  and  hoped  to  win,  even  .  .  . 
even  him.  .  .  . 

She  raised  fluttering,  impotent  white  hands  to 
her  temples,  trying  to  collect  herself. 

311 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

In  the  outer  room  a  clock  was  ticking.  Uncon 
sciously  she  moved  to  the  doorway  and  stood  look 
ing  for  a  time  at  the  white,  expressionless  dial.  It 
was  some  time — a  minute  or  two — before  she  de 
ciphered  the  hour. 

Ten  minutes  past  two !  .  .  .  Ah,  the  lifetime 
she  had  lived  in  the  past  seventy  minutes !  And  the 
futility  of  it  all! 


SI* 


XV 

THE     PRICE 

Slowly  Maitland  returned  to  the  study  and  re 
placed  the  lamp  upon  his  desk;  and  stood  briefly 
in  silence,  long  fingers  stroking  his  well-shaped  chin, 
his  face  a  little  thin  and  worn-looking,  a  gleam  of 
pain  in  his  eyes.  He  sighed. 

So  she  was  gone! 

He  laughed  a  trace  harshly.  This  surprise  was 
nothing  more  than  he  might  have  discounted,  of 
course ;  he  had  been  a  fool  to  expect  anything 
else  of  her,  he  was  enjoying  only  his  just  deserts 
both  for  having  dared  to  believe  that  the  good  in 
human  nature  (and  particularly  in  woman's  nature) 
would  respond  to  decent  treatment,  and  for  having 
acted  on  that  asinine  theory. 

So  she  was  gone,  without  a  word,  without  a 
sign!  .  .  . 

He  sat  down  at  the  desk,  sidewise,  one  arm  ex- 
313 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

tended  along  its  edge,  fingers  drumming  out  a 
dreary  little  tune  on  the  hard  polished  wood;  and 
thought  it  all  over  from  the  beginning.  Nor  spared 
himself. 

Why,  after  all,  should  it  be  otherwise?  Why 
should  she  have  stayed?  Why  should  he  compli 
ment  himself  by  believing  that  there  was  aught 
about  him  visible  through  the  veneer  acquired  in 
a  score  and  odd  years  of  purposeless  existence,  to 
attract  a  young  and  pretty  woman's  heart? 

He  enumerated  his  qualities  specifically ;  and  con 
demned  them  all.  Imprimis,  he  was  a  conceited  ass. 
A  fascinating  young  criminal  had  but  to  toss  her 
head  at  him  to  make  him  think  that  she  was  pleased 
with  him,  to  make  him  forget  that  she  was  what  she 
was  and  believe  that,  because  he  was  willing  to  stoop, 
she  was  willing  to  climb.  And  he  had  betrayed  him 
self  so  mercilessly!  How  she  must  have  laughed  in 
her  sleeve  all  the  time,  while  he  pranced  and  bridled 
and  preened  himself  under  her  eyes,  blinded  to  his 
own  idiocy  by  the  flame  of  a  sudden  infatuation — • 
how  she  must  have  laughed! 


THE    PRICE 

Undoubtedly  she  had  laughed;  and,  measuring  his 
depth, — or  his  shallowness, — had  determined  to  use 
him  to  her  ends.  Why  not?  It  had  been  her  busi 
ness,  her  professional  duty,  to  make  use  of  him  in 
order  to  accomplish  her  plundering.  And  because 
she  had  not  dared  to  ask  him  for  the  jewels  when 
he  left  her  in  the  morning,  she  had  naturally  re 
turned  in  the  evening  to  regain  them,  very  con 
fident,  doubtless,  that  even  if  surprised  a  second 
time,  she  would  get  off  scot-free.  Unfortunately 
for  her,  this  fellow  Anisty  had  interfered.  Maitland 
presumed  cynically  that  he  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
Anisty.  .  .  .  The  unaccountable  scoundrel !  Why 
had  he  returned? 

How  the  girl  had  contrived  to  escape  was,  of 
course,  more  easy  to  understand.  Maitland  re 
called  that  sudden  clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  street,  and 
he  had  only  to  make  a  trip  to  the  window  to  verify 
his  suspicion  that  the  cab  was  gone.  She  had  sim 
ply  overheard  his  concluding  remarks  to  the  cabby, 
and  taken  pardonable  advantage  of  them.  Mait 
land  had  footed  the  bill.  .  .  .  She  was  welcome 

315 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

to  that,  however.  He,  Maitland,  was  well  rid  of  the 
whole  damnable  business.  .  .  •  Yes,  jewels  and 
all! 

What  were  the  jewels  to  him?  .  .  .  Beyond 
their  sentimental  associations,  he  did  not  hold  them 
greatly  in  prize.  Of  course,  since  they  had  been 
worn  by  his  mother,  he  would  spare  no  expense  or 
effort  to  trace  and  re-collect  them,  for  that  dim 
sainted  memory's  sake.  But  in  this  case,  at  least, 
the  traditional  usage  of  the  Maitlands  would  never 
be  carried  out.  It  had  been  faithfully  observed 
when,  after  his  mother's  death,  the  stones  had  been 
removed  from  their  settings  and  stored  away ;  but 
now  they  would  never  be  reset,  even  should  he  con 
trive  to  reassemble  them,  to  adorn  the  bride  of  the 
Maitland  heir.  For  he  would  never  marry.  Of 
course  not.  .  .  . 

Maitland  was  young  enough  to  believe,  and  to 
extract  a  melancholy  satisfaction  from  this. 

Puzzled  and  saddened,  his  mind  harked  back 
for  ever  to  that  carking  question:  Why  had  she 
returned?  What  had  brought  her  back  to  the  flat? 

316 


THE    PRICE 

If  she  and  Anisty  were  confederates,  as  one  was 
inclined  at  times  to  believe, — if  such  were  the  case, 
Anisty  had  the  jewels,  and  there  was  nothing  else 
of  any  particular  value  so  persistently  to  entice  such 
expert  and  accomplished  burglars  back  to  his  flat. 
What  else  had  they  required  of  him?  His  peace 
of  mind  was  nothing  that  they  could  turn  into  cash ; 
and  they  seemed  to  have  reaved  him  of  nothing  else. 

But  they  had  that ;  unquestionably  they  had  taken 
that. 

And  still  the  riddle  haunted  him:  Why  had  she 
come  back  that  night?  And,  whatever  her  reason, 
had  she  come  in  Anisty's  company,  or  alone?  One 
minute  it  seemed  patent  beyond  dispute  that  the 
girl  and  the  great  plunderer  were  hand-in-glove ; 
the  next  minute  Maitland  was  positively  assured 
that  their  recent  meeting  had  been  altogether  an 
accident.  From  what  he  had  heard  over  the  tele 
phone,  he  had  believed  them  to  be  quarreling,  although 
at  the  time  he  had  assigned  to  O'Hagan  the  mascu 
line  side  to  the  dispute.  But  certainly  there  must 
have  arisen  some  difference  of  opinion  between  Anisty 

317 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

and  the  girl,  to  have  drawn  from  her  that  frantic 
negative  Maitland  had  heard,  to  have  been  responsi 
ble  for  the  overturning  of  the  chair, — an  accident 
that  seemed  to  argue  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
physical  struggle ;  the  chair  itself  still  lay  upon  its 
side,  mute  witness  to  a  hasty  and  careless  movement 
on  somebody's  part. 

But  it  was  all  inexplicable.  Eventually  Mait 
land  shook  his  head,  to  signify  that  he  gave  it  up. 
There  was  but  one  thing  to  do, — to  put  it  out  of 
mind.  He  would  read  a  bit,  compose  himself,  go 
to  bed. 

Preliminary  to  doing  so,  he  would  take  steps  to 
insure  the  flat  against  further  burglarizing,  for  that 
night,  at  least.  The  draught  moving  through  the 
hall  stirred  the  portiere  and  reminded  him  that  the 
window  in  the  trunk-room  was  still  open,  an  invita 
tion  to  any  enterprising  sneak-thief  or  second- 
story  man.  So  Maitland  went  to  close  and  make 
it  fast. 

As  he  shut  down  the  window-sash  and  clamped  the 
catch  he  trod  on  something  soft  and  yielding. 

318 


THE    PRICE 

Wondering,  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  and  car 
ried  it  back  to  the  light.  It  proved  to  be  the  girl's 
hand-bag. 

"  Now,"  admitted  Maitland  in  a  tone  of  absolute 
candor,  "  I  am  damned.  How  the  dickens  did  this 
thing  get  there,  anyway?  What  was  she  doing  in 
my  trunk-closet?" 

Was  it  possible  that  she  had  followed  Anisty  out 
of  the  flat  by  that  route?  A  very  much  mys 
tified  young  man  sat  himself  down  again  in  front  of 
his  desk,  and  turned  the  bag  over  and  over  in  his 
hands,  keenly  scrutinizing  every  inch  of  it,  and  whis 
tling  softly. 

That  year  the  fashion  in  purses  was  for  capacious 
receptacles  of  grained  leather,  nearly  square  in 
shape,  and  furnished  with  a  chain  handle.  This 
which  Maitland  held  was  conspicuously  of  the  mode, 
— neither  too  large,  nor  too  small,  constructed  of 
fine  soft  leather  of  a  gun-metal  shade,  with  a  frame 
work  and  chain  of  gun-metal  itself.  It  was  new  and 
seemed  well-filled,  weighing  a  trifle  heavy  in  the 
hand.  One  face  was  adorned  with  a  monogram  of 

319 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

cut  gun-metal,  the  initials  "  S  "  and  "  G  "  and  "  L  " 
interlaced.  But  beyond  this  the  bag  was  irritat- 
ingly  non-committal. 

Undoubtedly,  if  one  were  to  go  to  the  length  of 
unsnapping  the  little,  frail  clasp,  one  would  acquire 
information ;  by  such  facile  means  would  much  light 
be  shed  upon  the  darkness.  But  Maitland  put  a 
decided  negative  to  the  suggestion. 

No.  He  would  give  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
He  would  wait,  he  would  school  himself  to  patience. 
Perhaps  she  would  come  back  for  it, — and  explain. 
Perhaps  he  could  find  her  by  advertising  it, — and 
get  an  explanation.  Pending  which,  he  could  wait 
a  little  while.  It  was  not  his  wish  to  pry  into  her 
secrets,  even  if — even  if  ... 

It    was    something   to    be    smoked    over.     . 
Strange  how  it  affected  him  to  have  in  his  hands 
something  that  she  had  owned  and  touched ! 

Opening  a  drawer  of  the  desk,  Maitland  produced 
an  aged  pipe.  A  brazen  jar,  companion  piece  to 
the  ash  receiver,  held  his  tobacco.  He  filled  the  pipe 
from  the  jar,  with  thoughtful  deliberation.  And 

320 


THE    PRICE 

scraped  a  match  beneath  his  chair  and  ignited  the 
tobacco  and  puffed  in  contemplative  contentment, 
deriving  solace  from  each  mouthful  of  grateful, 
evanescent  incense.  Meanwhile  he  held  the  charred 
match  between  thumb  and  forefinger. 

Becoming  conscious  of  this  fact,  he  smiled  in 
deprecation  of  his  absent-minded  mood,  looked  for 
the  ash-receiver,  discovered  it  in  place,  inverted  be 
neath  the  book;  and  frowned,  remembering.  Then, 
with  an  impatient  gesture, — impatient  of  his  own 
infirmity  of  mind:  for  he  simply  could  not  forget 
the  girl, — he  dropped  the  match,  swept  the  book 
aside,  lifted  the  bowl.  .  .  . 

After  a  moment  of  incredulous  awe,  the  young 
man  rose,  with  eyes  a-light  and  a  jubilant  song  in 
the  heart  of  him.  Now  he  knew,  now  under 
stood,  now  believed,  and  now  was  justified  of  his 
faith! 

After  which  depression  came,  with  the  conscious 
ness  that  she  was  gone,  for  ever  removed  beyond  his 
reach  and  influence,  and  that  by  her  own  wilful  act. 
It  was  her  intelligible  wish  that  they  should  never 

321 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

meet  again,  for,  having  accomplished  her  errand,  she 
had  flown  from  the  possibility  of  his  thanks. 

It  was  so  clear,  now!  He  perceived  it  all,  plainly. 
Somehow  (though  it  was  hard  to  surmise  how)  she 
had  found  out  that  Anisty  had  stolen  the  jewels; 
somehow  (and  one  wondered  at  what  risk)  she  had 
contrived  to  take  them  from  him  and  bring  them 
back  to  their  owner.  And  Anisty  had  followed. 

Poor  little  woman !  What  had  she  not  suffered, 
what  perils  had  she  not  braved,  to  prove  that  there 
was  honor  even  in  thieves!  It  could  have  been  at 
no  inconsiderable  danger, — a  danger  not  incom 
mensurate  with  that  of  robbing  a  tigress  of  her 
whelps, — that  she  had  managed  to  filch  his  loot 
from  that  pertinacious  and  vindictive  soul,  Anisty! 

But  she  had  accomplished  it;  and  all  for 
him! 

If  only  he  could  find  her,  now! 

There  was  a  clue  to  his  hand  in  that  bag,  of 
course,  but  by  this  act  she  had  for  ever  removed  from 
him  the  right  to  investigate  that. 

If  he  could  only  find  that  cabby. 


THE    PRICE 

Perhaps  if  he  tried  at  the  Madison  Square  rank, 
immediately. 

Besides,  it  was  clearly  his  duty  not  to  remain 
in  the  flat  alone  with  the  jewels  another  night. 
There  was  but  one  attainable  place  of  safety  for 
them;  and  that  the  safe  of  a  reputable  hotel.  He 
would  return  to  the  Bartholdi  at  once,  merely 
pausing  on  his  way  to  inquire  of  the  cabmen  if  they 
could  send  their  brother-nighthawk  to  him. 

Maitland  shook  himself  into  his  topcoat,  jammed 
hat  upon  head,  dropped  the  jewels  into  one  pocket, 
the  cigarette  case  into  another,  and — on  impulse — 
Anisty's  revolver,  with  its  two  unexploded  cart 
ridges,  into  a  third;  and  pressed  the  call  button  for 
O'Hagan,  not  waiting,  however,  for  that  worthy  to 
climb  the  stairs,  but  meeting  him  in  the  entry  hall. 

"  I'm  going  back  to  the  Bartholdi,  O'Hagan,  for 
the  night.  You  may  bring  me  my  letters  and  any 
messages  in  the  morning.  I  should  like  you  to 
sleep  in  the  flat  to-night  and  answer  any  telephone 
calls." 

"  Yiss,  Misther  Maitland,  sor." 
323 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"Have  the  police  gone,  O'Hagan?" 
"  There's  a  whole  bottle  full  yet,  sor." 
"  You've  not  been  drinking,  I  trust?  " 
The   Irishman    shuffled.      "  Shure,   sor,    an'   wud 
that  be  hosphitible?  " 

Laughing,  Maitland  bade  him  good  night  and 
left  the  house,  turning  west  to  gain  Fifth  Avenue, 
walking  slowly  because  he  was  a  little  tired,  and 
enjoying  the  rather  unusual  experience  of  being 
abroad  at  that  hour  without  company.  The  sky 
seemed  cleaner  than  ordinarily,  the  city  quieter  than 
ever  he  had  known  it,  and  in  the  air  was  a  sweet  smell, 
reminiscent  of  the  country-side  .  .  .  reminding 
one  unhappily  of  the  previous  night  when  one  had 
gone  whistling  to  one's  destiny  along  a  perfumed 
country  road.  .  .  . 

"  Good  'eavings,  Mister  Maitland,  sir !  It  carn't 
be  you ! " 

Maitland  looked  up,  bewildered  for  the  instant. 
The  voice  that  hailed  him  out  of  the  sky  was  not 
unfamiliar. 

A  cab  that  he  had  waited  on  the  corner  to  let 


THE    TRICE 

pass,  was  reined  back  suddenly.  The  driver  leniu'd 
down  from  the  box  and  in  a  thunderstruck  tone  ad 
vertised  his  stupefaction. 

"  It  aren't  in  nature,  sir — if  yer'll  pardon  my 
mentionin'  it.  But  'ere  I  leaves  you  not  ten  minutes 
ago  at  the  St.  Luke  Building  and  finds  yer  'ere, 
when  you  'aven't  'ad  time " 

Maitland  woke  up.  "  What's  that  ?  "  he  ques 
tioned  sharply.  "  You  left  me  where  ten  min 
utes ?" 

"  St.  Luke  Buildin',  corner  Broadway  an' " 

"  I  know  it,"  excited,  "  but " 

" 'avin'    took    yer    there    with    the    young 

lady " 

"Young  lady!" 

" that    comes     outer    the    'ouse    with    yer, 

sir " 

"  The  devil ! "  Maitland  hesitated  no  longer :  his 
foot  was  on  the  step  as  he  spoke.  "  Drive  me  there 
at  once,  and  drive  for  all  you're  worth ! "  he  cried. 
"  If  there's  an  ounce  of  speed  in  that  plug  of  yours 

and  you  don't  get  it  out " 

325 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Never  fear,  sir !  We'll  make  it  in  five  min 
utes!" 

"  It'll  be  worth  your  while." 

"  Right-O !  " 

Maitland  dropped  into  his  seat,  dumbfounded. 
"  Good  Lord !  "  he  whispered ;  and  then  savagely : 

"  In  the  power  of  that  infamous  scoundrel ! " 

And  felt  of  the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

The  cab  had  been  headed  north;  the  St.  Luke 
rears  its  massive  bulk  south  of  Twenty-third  Street. 
The  driver  expertly  swung  his  vehicle  almost  on 
dead  center.  Simultaneously  it  careened  with  the 
impact  of  a  heavy  bulk  landing  upon  the  step  and 
falling  in  a  heap  on  the  deck. 

"My  worrd,  what's  that?"  came  from  aloft. 
Maitland  was  altogether  too  startled  to  speak. 

The  heap  sat  up,  resolving  itself  into  the  sem 
blance  of  a  man ;  who  spoke  in  decisive  tones : 

"  If  yeh're  goin'  there,  I'm  goin'  with  yeh,  'r  yeh 
don't  go — see?  " 

"  The  sleuth !  "  gasped  Maitland,  astounded. 

"  Ah,  cut  that,  can't  yeh  ?  "  Hickey  got  on  all 
326 


THE    PRICE 

fours,  found  his  cigar,  stuck  it  in  his  mouth,  and 
fell  into  place  at  Maitland's  side. 

"Hickey,  I  mean.     But  how " 

"  If  yeh're  Maitland,  'nd  Anisty's  at  the  St.  Luke 
Buildin',  tell  that  fool  up  there  to  drive!" 

Maitland  had  no  need  to  lift  the  trap;  the  cabby 
had  already  done  that. 

"All  right,"  the  young  man  called.  "It's  De 
tective  Hickey.  Drive  on  !  " 

The  lash  leaped  out  over  the  roof — cr-rack! — and 
the  horse,  presumably  convinced  that  no  speed  other 
than  a  dead-run  would  ever  again  be  demanded  of 
it,  tore  frantically  down  the  Avenue,  the  hansom 
rocking  like  a  topsail-schooner  in  a  heavy  gale. 

Maitland  and  the  detective  were  battered  against 
the  side  and  back  of  the  vehicle  and  slammed  against 
one   another   with   painful   regularity.     Under   such 
circumstances    speech   was    difficult;   yet   they   man 
aged  to  exchange  a  few  sentences. 
"  Yeh  gottuh  gun?" 
"  Anisty's — two  good  cartridges." 
"  Jus'  as  well  I'm  along,  I  guess." 
327 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

And  again :  "  How'd  yeh  s'pose  Anisty  got  this 
cab?" 

"  I  don't  know — must  've  been  in  the  house — I 
told  cabby  to  wait — Anisty  seems  to  have  walked 
out  right  on  your  heels." 

"Hell!"  And  a  moment  later:  "What's  this 
about  a  woman  in  the  case?  " 

Maitland  took  swift  thought  on  her  behalf. 

"  Too  long  to  go  into  now,"  he  parried  the  query. 
"  You  help  me  catch  this  scoundrel  Anisty  and  I'll 
put  in  a  good  word  for  you  with  the  deputy 
commissioner." 

"Ah,  yeh  help  me  nab  him,"  grunted  the  detective, 
"  'nd  I  won't  need  no  good  word  with  nobody." 

The  hansom  swung  into  Broadway,  going  like  a 
whirlwind;  and  picked  up  an  uniformed  officer  in 
front  of  the  Flatiron  Building,  who,  shouting  and 
using  his  locust  stridently,  sprinted  after  them.  A 
block  further  down  another  fell  into  line;  and  he  it 
was  who  panted  at  the  step  an  instant  after  the  cab 
had  lurched  to  a  stop  before  the  entrance  to  the  St. 
Luke  Building. 

8*8 


THE    PRICE 

Hickey  had  rolled  out  before  the  policeman  had  a 
chance  to  bluster. 

"  'Lo,  Bergen,"  he  greeted  the  man.  "  Yeh  know 
me — i»m  Hickey,  Central  Office.  Yeh're  jus'  in  time. 
Anisty's  in  this  buildin' — 'r  was  ten  minutes  ago. 
We  want  all  the  help  we  c'n  get." 

By  way  of  reply  the  officer  stooped  and  drummed 
a  loud  alarm  on  the  sidewalk  with  his  night-stick. 

"  Say,"  he  panted,  rising,  "  you're  a  wonder, 
Hickey — if  you  get  him." 

"  Uh-huh,"  grunted  the  detective  with  a  sidelong 
glance  at  Maitland.  "  C'm  'long." 

The  lobby  of  the  building  was  quite  deserted  as 
they  entered,  the  night-watchman  invisible;  the  night 
elevator  on  its  way  to  the  roof — as  was  discovered 
by  consultation  of  the  indicator  dial  above  the 
gate.  Hickey  punched  the  night  call  bell  sav 
agely. 

"  Me  'nd  him,"  he  said,  jerking  the  free  thumb 
at  Maitland,  "  '11  go  up  and  hunt  him  out.  Begin 
at  th'  top  floor  an'  work  down.  That's  th'  way, 
huh?  'Nd,"  to  the  policeman,  "  yeh  stay  here  an' 

329 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

hold  up  anybody  't  tries  tub  leave  th'  buildin'. 
Tbere  ain't  no  other  entrance,  I  s'pose,  what  ?  " 

"  Basement  door  an'  ash  lift's  round  th'  corner," 
responded  the  officer.  "  But  that  had  ought  tub 
be  locked,  night." 

"  Well,  'f  anybody  else  comes  along  yeh  put  him 
there,  anyway,  for  luck.  .  .  .  What  'n  hell's 
th'  matter  with  this  elevator  ?  " 

The  detective  settled  a  pudgy  index-finger  on  the 
push  button  and  elicited  a  far,  thin,  shrill  peal  from 
the  annunciator  above.  But  the  indicator  arrow 
remained  as  motionless  as  the  car  at  the  top  of 
the  shaft.  Another  summons  gained  no  response, 
in  likewise,  and  a  third  was  also  disregarded. 

Hickey  stepped  back,  face  black  as  a  storm-cloud, 

summed  up  his   opinion  of  the  management  of  the 
i 
building  in  one  soul-blistering  phrase,  produced  his 

bandana  and  used  it  vigorously,  uttered  a  libel  on 
the  ancestry  of  the  night-watchman  and  the  likes 
of  him,  and  turned  to  give  profane  welcome  to  the 
policeman  who  had  noticed  the  cab  at  Twenty-third 
Street  and  who  now  panted  in,  blown  and  perspiring. 

330 


THE    TRICE 

Much  to  his  disgust  he  found  himself  assignor!  f-o 
stand  guard  over  the  basement  exits,  and  waddled 
forth  again  into  the  street. 

Meanwhile  the  first  officer  to  arrive  upon  the  scene 
was  taking  his  turn  at  agitating  the  button  and 
shaking  the  gates ;  and  with  no  more  profit  of  his 
undertaking  than  Hickey.  After  a  minute  or  two 
of  it  he  acknowledged  defeat  with  an  oath,  and 
turned  away  to  browbeat  the  straggling  vanguard 
of  belated  wayfarers, — messenger-boys,  slatternly 
drabs,  hackmen,  loafers,  and  one  or  two  plain  citi 
zens  conspicuously  out  of  their  reputable  grooves, — 
who  were  drifting  in  at  the  entrance  to  line  the 
lobby  walls  with  blank,  curious  faces.  Forerunners 
of  that  mysterious  rabble  which  is  apparently  pre 
cipitated  out  of  the  very  air  by  any  extraordinary 
happening  in  city  streets,  if  allowed  to  remain  they 
would  in  five  minutes  have  waxed  in  numbers  to  the 
proportions  of  an  unmanageable  mob ;  and  the 
policeman,  knowing  this,  set  about  dispersing  them 
with  perhaps  greater  discretion  than  consideration. 

They  wavered  and  fell  back,  grumbling  discon- 
331 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

tentedly;  and  Maitland,  his  anxiety  temporarily 
distracted  by  the  noise  they  made,  looked  round  to 
find  his  erstwhile  cabby  at  his  elbow.  Of  whom  the 
sight  was  inspiration.  Ever  thoughtful,  never  un 
mindful  of  her  whose  influence  held  him  in  this  coil, 
he  laid  an  arresting  hand  on  the  man's  sleeve. 

"  You've  got  your  cab ?  " 

"  Yessir,  right  houtside." 

"  Drive  round  the  corner,  away  from  the  crowd, 
and  wait  for  me.  If  she — the  young  lady — comes 
without  me,  drive  her  anywhere  she  tells  you  and 
come  to  my  rooms  to-morrow  morning  for  your 
pay." 

"  Thankee,  sir." 

Maitland  turned  back,  to  find  the  situation  round 
the  elevator  shaft  in  statu  quo.  Nothing  had  hap 
pened,  save  that  Hickey's  rage  and  vexation  had 
increased  mightily. 

"  But  why  don't  you  go  up  after  him?  " 

"How  'n  blazes  can  I?"  exploded  the  detective. 
"  He's  got  th'  night  car.  'F  I  takes  the  stairs,  he 
comes  down  by  th'  shaft,  'nd  how'm  I  tuh  trust  this 


THE    PRICE 

here  mutt?"     He  indicated  his  associate  but  hum 
bler  custodian  of  the  peace  with  a  disgusted  gesture. 

"  Perhaps  one   of  the  other  cars  will  run '' 

Maitland  suggested. 

"  Ah,  they're  all  dead  ones,"  Hickey  disagreed 
with  disdain  as  the  young  man  moved  down  the  row 
of  gates,  trying  one  after  another.  "  Yeh're  only 
wastin' " 

He  broke  off  with  a  snort  as  Maitland,  somewhat 
to  his  own  surprise  managing  to  move  the  gate  of 
the  third  shaft  from  the  night  elevator,  stepped  into 
the  darkened  car  and  groped  for  the  controller. 
Presently  his  fingers  encountered  it,  and  he  moved 
it  cautiously  to  one  side.  A  vicious  blue  spark 
leaped  hissing  from  the  controller-box  and  the  cage 
bounded  up  a  dozen  feet,  and  was  only  restrained 
from  its  ambition  to  soar  skywards  by  an  instan 
taneous  release  of  the  lever. 

By  discreet  manipulation  Maitland  worked  the 
car  down  to  the  street  floor  again,  and  Hickey, 
with  a  grunt  that  might  be  interpreted  as  an  apology 
for  his  incredulity,  jumped  in. 

333 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

u  Let  'er  rip !  "  he  cried  exultantly.  "  Fan  them 
folks  out  intuh  th'  street,  Bergen,  'nd  watch 
ow-ut !  " 

Maitland  was  pressing  the  lever  slowly  wide  of  its 
catch,  and  the  lighted  lobby  dropped  out  of  sight 
while  the  detective  was  still  shouting  admonitions 
to  the  police  below.  Gradually  gaining  in  mo 
mentum  the  car  began  to  shoot  smoothly  up  into  the 
blackness,  safety  chains  clanking  beneath  the  floor. 
Hickey  fumbled  for  the  electric  light  switch  but,  find 
ing  it,  immediately  shut  the  glare  off  again  and  left 
the  car  in  darkness. 

"  Safer,"  he  explained,  sententious.  "  Anisty  '11 
shoot,  'nd  they  says  he  shoots  straight." 

Floor  after  floor  in  ghostly  strata  slipped  silently 
down  before  their  eyes.  Half-way  to  the  top,  ap 
proximately,  Hickey's  voice  rang  sharply  in  the 
volunteer  operator's  ear. 

"Stop  'er!  Hold  'er  steady.  T'other's  comm 
down." 

Maitland  obeyed,  managing  the  car  with  greater 
ease  and  less  jerkily  as  he  began  to  understand  the 

334 


THE    PRICE 

priMciplc  of  the  lever.     Tho  cage  paused  in  the  black 
shaft,  and  he  looked  upward. 

Down  the  third  shaft  over,  the  other  cage  was 
dropping  like  a  plummet,  a  block  of  golden  light 
walled  in  by  black  filigree-work  and  bisected  verti 
cally  by  the  black  line  of  the  guide-rail. 

"  Stop  that  there  car !  " 

Hickey's  stentorian  command  had  no  effect; 
the  block  of  light  continued  to  fall  with  unabated 
speed. 

The  detective  wasted  no  more  breath.  As  the 
other  car  swept  past,  Maitland  was  shocked  by  a 
report  and  flash  beside  him.  Hickey  was  using  his 
revolver. 

The  detonation  was  answered  by  a  cry,  a  scream 
of  pain,  from  the  lighted  cage.  It  paused  on  the 
instant,  like  a  bird  stricken  a-wing,  some  four  floors 
below,  but  at  once  resumed  its  downward  swoop. 

"  Down,  down !  After  'em !  "  Hickey  bellowed. 
"I  dropped  one,  by  God!  T'other  can't " 

"How  many  in  the  car?"  interrupted  Maitland, 
opening  the  lever  with  a  firm  and  careful  hand. 

335 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Only  two,  same's  us.  I  hit  th*  feller  what  was 
runnin'  it " 

"  Steady ! "  cautioned  Maitland,  decreasing  the 
speed,  as  the  car  approached  the  lower  floor. 

The  other  had  beaten  them  down;  but  its  arrival 
at  the  street  level  was  greeted  by  a  short  chorus  of 
mad  yells,  a  brief  fusillade  of  shots- — perhaps  five  in 
all — and  the  clang  of  the  gate.  Then,  like  a  ball 
rebounding,  the  cage  swung  upwards  again,  hur 
tling  at  full  speed. 

Evidently  Anisty  had  been  received  in  force  which 
he  had  not  bargained  for. 

Maitland  instinctively  reversed  the  lever  and  sent 
his  own  car  upward  again,  slowly,  waiting  for 
the  other  to  overtake  it.  Peering  down  through  the 
iron  lattice-work  he  could  indistinctly  observe  the 
growing  cube  of  light,  with  a  dark  shape  lying 
huddled  in  one  corner  of  the  floor.  A  second  figure, 
rapidly  taking  shape  as  Anisty's,  stood  by  the  con 
troller,  braced  against  the  side  of  the  car,  one  hand 
on  the  lever,  the  other  poising  a  shining  thing,  the 
flesh-colored  oval  of  his  face  turned  upwards  in  a 

336 


THE    PRICE 

supposititious  attempt  to  discern  the  location  of  the 
dark  car. 

Hickey,  by  firing  prematurely,  lent  him  adventi 
tious  aid.  The  criminal  replied  with  spirit,  aiming 
at  the  flash,  his  bullet  spattering  against  the  back 
wall  of  the  shaft.  Hickey's  next  bullet  rang  with  a 
bell-like  note  against  the  metal-work,  Anisty's  pre 
sumably  went  wide — though  Maitland  could  have 
sworn  he  felt  the  cold  kiss  of  its  breath  upon  his 
cheek.  And  the  lighted  cage  rocketed  past  and  up. 

Maitland  needed  no  admonition  to  pursue ;  his 
blood  was  up,  his  heart  singing  with  the  lust  of  the 
man-hunt.  Yet  Anisty  was  rapidly  leaving  them, 
his  car  soaring  at  an  appalling  pace.  Towards  the 
top  he  evidently  made  some  attempt  to  slow  up,  but 
either  he  was  ignorant  of  the  management  of  the 
lever,  or  else  the  thing  had  got  beyond  control. 
The  cage  rammed  the  buffers  with  a  crash  that 
echoed  through  the  sounding  halls  like  a  peal  of 
thunder-claps;  it  was  instantaneously  plunged  into 
darkness.  There  followed  a  splintering  and  rend 
ing  sound,  and  Maitland,  heart  in  mouth,  could 

387 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

make  out  dimly  a  dark,  falling  shadow  in  the  further 
shaft.  Yet  ere  it  had  descended  a  score  of  feet  the 
safety-clutch  acted  and,  with  a  third  tremendous 
jar,  shaking  the  building,  the  car  halted. 

Hickey  and  Maitland  were  then  some  five  floors 
below.  "  Stop  'er  at  Nineteen,"  ordered  the  detec 
tive.  There  was  a  lilt  of  exultancy  in  his  voice. 
"  We  got  him  now,  all  right,  all  right.  He'll  try 

to  get  down  by There !  "  Overhead  the  crash 

of  a  gate  forced  open  was  followed  by  a  scurry  of 
footsteps  over  the  tiling.  "  Stop  'er  and  we'll  head 
him  off.  So  now — eee&sy !  " 

Maitland  shut  off  the  power  as  the  car  reached 
the  nineteenth  floor.  Hickey  opened  the  gate  and 
jumped  out.  "  Shut  that,"  he  commanded  sharply 
as  Maitland  followed  him,  "  in  case  he  gets  past 
us." 

He  paused  a  moment  in  thought,  heavy  head  on 
bull-neck  drooping  forward  as  he  stared  toward  the 
rear  of  the  building.  He  was  fearless  arid  resource 
ful,  for  all  his  many  deficiencies.  Maitland  found 
time,  quaintly  enough,  to  regard  him  witk  detached 

338 


THE    PRICE 

curiosity,  a  rare  animal,  illustrating  all  that  was 
best  and  worst  in  his  order.  Endowed  with  unex 
ceptionable  courage,  his  address  in  emergencies 
seemed  altogether  admirable. 

u  Yeh  guard  them  stairs,"  he  decided  suddenly. 
"  I'll  run  through  this  hall,  'nd  see  what's  doing. 
Don't  hesitate  to  shoot  if  he  tries  to  jump  yeh." 
And  was  gone,  clumping  briskly  down  the  corridor 
to  the  rear. 

Maitland,  yielding  the  initiative  to  the  other's 
superior  generalship,  stood  sentinel,  revolver  in 
hand,  until  the  detective  returned,  overheated  and 
sweating,  from  his  tour,  to  report  "  nothin'  doin'," 
with  characteristic  brevity.  He  had  the  same  report 
to  make  on  both  the  twentieth  and  twenty-first  floors, 
where  the  same  procedure  was  observed;  but  as  the 
latter  was  reached  unexpected  and  very  welcome  re 
inforcements  were  gained  by  the  arrival  of  a  third 
car,  containing  three  patrolmen  and  one  roundsman. 
Yet  numbers  created  delay ;  Hickey  was  seized  and 
compelled  to  pant  explanations,  to  his  supreme 
disgust. 

339 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

And,  suddenly  impatient  beyond  endurance,  Mait- 
land  left  them  and  alone  sprang  up  the  stairs. 

That  this  was  simple  foolhardiness  may  be  granted 
without  dispute.  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
he  was  very  young  and  ardent,  very  greatly  per 
turbed  on  behalf  of  an  actor  in  the  tragedy  in  whom 
the  police,  to  their  then  knowledge,  had  no  interest 
whatsoever.  And  if  in  the  heat  of  chase  he  had  for 
an  instant  forgotten  her,  now  he  remembered ;  and 
at  once  the  capture  of  Anisty  was  relegated  to  the 
status  of  a  matter  of  secondary  importance.  The 
real  matter  at  stake  was  the  safety  of  the  girl  whom 
Anisty,  by  exercise  of  an  infernal  ingenuity  that 
passed  Maitland's  comprehension,  had  managed  to 
spirit  into  this  place  of  death  and  darkness  and 
whispering  halls.  Where  she  might  be,  in  what  de 
gree  of  suffering  and  danger, — these  were  the  con 
siderations  that  sent  him  in  search  of  her  without 
a  thought  of  personal  peril,  but  with  a  sick  heart 
and  overwhelmed  with  a  stifling  sense  of  anxiety. 

More  active  than  the  paunch-burdened  detective, 
he  had  sprinted  down  and  back  through  the  hallway 

340 


THE    PRICE 

of  the  twenty-second  floor,  without  discovering  any 
thing,  ere  the  police  contingent  had  reached  an 
agreement  and  the  stairhead. 

There  remained  two  more  floors,  two  final  flights. 
A  little  hopelessly  he  swung  up  the  first.  And  as 
he  did  so  the  blackness  above  him  was  riven  by  a 
tongue  of  fire,  and  a  bullet,  singing  past  his  head, 
flattened  itself  with  a  vicious  spat  against  the  mar 
ble  dado  of  the  walls.  Instinctively  he  pulled  up, 
finger  closing  upon  the  trigger  of  his  revolver;  flash 
and  report  followed  the  motion,  and  a  panel  of 
ribbed  glass  in  a  door  overhead  was  splintered  and 
fell  in  clashing  fragments,  all  but  drowning  the 
sound  of  feet  in  flight  upon  the  upper  staircase. 

A  clamor  of  caution,  warning,  encouragement, 
and  advice  broke  out  from  the  police  below.  But 
Maitland  hardly  heard.  Already  he  was  again  in 
pursuit,  taking  the  steps  two  at  a  leap.  With  a 
hand  upon  the  newel-post  he  swung  round  on  the 
twenty-third  floor,  and  hurled  himself  toward  the 
foot  of  the  last  flight.  A  crash  like  a  rifle-shot 
rang  out  above,  and  for  a  second  he  fancied  that 

341 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

Anisty  had  fired  again  and  with  a  heavier  weapon. 
But  immediately  he  realized  that  the  noise  had  been 
only  the  slamming  of  the  door  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs, — the  door  whose  glazed  panel  loomed  above 
him,  shedding  a  diffused  light  to  guide  his  footsteps, 
its  opalescent  surface  lettered  with  the  name  of 

HENRY    M.    BANNERMAN 

Attorney  fy  Counselor-at-Law 

the  door  of  the  office  whose  threshold  he  had  so  often 
crossed  to  meet  a  friend  and  adviser.  It  was  with 
a  shock  that  he  comprehended  this,  A  thrill  of  won 
der.  He  had  all  but  forgotten  that  Bannerman 
owned  an  office  in  the  building,  in  the  rush,  the 
urge  of  this  wild  adventure.  Strange  that  Anisty 
should  have  chosen  it  for  the  scene  of  his  last  stand, 
— strange,  and  strangely  fatal  for  the  criminal! 
For  Maitland  knew  that  from  this  eyrie  there  was  no 
means  of  escape,  other  than  by  the  stairs. 

Well  and  good !     Then  they  had  the  man,  and 

The  thought  was  flashing  in  his  mind,  illumining 
the  darkness  of  his  despair  with  the  hope  that  he 


THE    PRICE 

would  be  able  to  force  a  word  as  to  the  girl's  where 
abouts  from  the  burglar  ere  the  police  arrived; 
Maitland's  foot  was  on  the  upper  step,  when  a 
scream  of  mortal  terror — her  voice ! — broke  from 
within.  Half  maddened,  he  threw  himself  bodily 
against  the  door,  twisting  the  knob  with  frantic 
fingers  that  slipped  upon  its  immovable  polished 
surface. 

The  bolt  had  been  shot,  he  was  barred  out,  and, 
with  only  the  width  of  a  man's  hand  between  them, 
the  girl  was  in  deathly  peril  and  terror. 

A  sob  that  was  at  the  same  time  an  oath  rose  to 
liis  lips.  Baffled,  helpless,  he  fell  back,  tears  of  rage 
starting  to  his  eyes,  her  accents  ringing  in  his  ears 
as  terribly  pitiful  as  the  cry  of  a  lost  and  wandering 
soul. 

"God!"  he  mumbled  incoherently,  and  in  des 
peration  sent  the  pisi.ol-uutt  crashing  against  the 
glass.  It  was  tough,  stout,  stubborn ;  the  first  blow 
scarcely  flawed  it.  As  he  redoubled  his  efforts  to 
shatter  it,  Hickey's  hand  shot  over  his  shoulder  to 
aid  him.  •  •  *  And  with  startling  abruptness 

343 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

the  barrier  seemed  to  dissolve  before  their  eyes,  the 
glass  falling  inward  with  a  shrill  clatter. 

Quaintly,  with  the  effect  of  a  picture  cast  by  a 
cinematograph  in  a  darkened  auditorium,  there 
leaped  upon  Maitland's  field  of  vision  the  picture  of 
Anisty  standing  at  bay,  face  drawn  and  tense,  lips 
curled  back,  eyes  lurid  with  defiance  and  despair. 
He  stood,  poised  upon  the  balls  of  his  feet,  like  a  cat 
ready  to  spring,  in  the  doorway  between  the  inner 
and  outer  offices.  He  raised  his  hand  with  an  inde 
scribably  swift  and  vicious  gesture,  and  a  flame 
seemed  to  blaze  out  from  his  finger-tips. 

At  the  same  instant  Hickey'.s  weapon  spat  by 
Maitland's  cheek;  the  young  man  felt  the  hot  fur 
nace  breath  of  it. 

The  burglar  reeled  as  though  from  a  tremendous 
blow.  His  inflamed  features  were  suddenly  whitened, 
and  his  right  arm  dropped  In,  L*y  from  the  shoulder, 
revolver  falling  from  fingers  involuntarily  relaxing. 

Hickey  covered  him.  "  Surrender !  "  he  roared. 
'And  fired  again.  For  Anisty  had  gone  to  his  knees, 
reaching  for  the  revolver  with  his  uninjured  arm. 

344 


THE    PRICE 

The  detective's  second  bullet  winged  through  the 
doorway,  over  Anisty's  head,  and  bit  through  the 
outer  window.  As  Anisty,  with  a  tremendous  strain 
upon  his  failing  powers,  struggled  to  his  feet,  Ma  it- 
land,  catching  the  murderous  gleam  in  the  man's 
eye,  pulled  trigger.  The  burglar's  answering  shot 
expended  itself  a?  harmlessly  as  Maitland's.  Both 
went  wide  of  their  marks. 

And  of  a  sudden  Hickey  had  drawn  the  bolt,  and 
the  body  of  police  behind  forced  Maitland  pell-mell 
into  the  room.  As  he  recovered  he  saw  Hickey  hurl 
ing  himself  nt  the  criminal's  throat — one  second  too 
late.  Tru*  to  his  pledge  never  to  be  taken  alive, 
Anisty  had  sent  his  last  bullet  crashing  through  his 
own  skull. 

A  cry  of  horror  and  consternation  forced  itself 
from  Maitland's  throat.  The  police  halted,  each 
where  he  stood,  transfixed.  Anisty  drew  himself  up, 
with  a  trace  of  pride  in  his  pose;  smiled  horribly; 
put  a  hand  mechanically  to  his  lips  .  •  • 

And  died. 

Hickey  caught  him  as  he  fell,  but  Maitland,  un- 
345 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

heeding,  leaped  over  the  body  that  had  in  life  re 
sembled  him  so  fatally,  and  entered  Bannerman's 
private  office. 

The  grey  girl  lay  at  length  in  a  comer  of  the 
room,  shielded  from  observation  by  one  of  the  desks. 
Her  eyes  were  closed,  her  cheeks  wore  the  hue  of 
death ;  the  fair  young  head  was  pillowed  on  one  white 
and  rounded  forearm,  in  an  attitude  of  natural  rest, 
and  the  burnished  hair,  its  heavy  coils  slipping  from 
their  fastenings,  tumbled  over  her  head  and  shoul 
ders  in  shimmering  glory,  like  a  splash  of  living 
flame. 

With  a  low  and  bitter  cry  the  young  man  dropped 
to  his  knees  by  her  side.  In  the  outer  office  the 
police  were  assembled  in  excited  conclave,  blind  to 
all  save  the  momentous  fact  of  Anisty's  last,  su 
premely  consistent  act.  For  the  time  Maitland  was 
utterly  alone  with  his  great  and  aching  loneliness. 

After  a  little  while  timidly  he  touched  her  hand. 
It  lay  upturned,  white  slender  fingers  like  exotic 
petals  curling  in  upon  the  rosy  hollow  of  her  palm. 
And  it  was  soft  and  warm. 

346 


THE    PRICE 

He  lifted  it  tenderly  in  both  his  own,  and  so  held 
it  for  a  space,  brooding,  marveling  at  its  perfection. 
And  inevitably  he  bent  and  touched  it  with  his  lips, 
as  if  their  ardent  contact  would  warm  it  to  sen 
tience.  .  .  . 

The  fingers  tightened  upon  his  own,  slowly,  surely ; 
and  in  the  blinding  joy  of  that  moment  he  was  made 
conscious  of  the  ineffable  sweetness  of  opening,  won 
dering  eyes. 


S47 


XVI 

BECESSIONAI, 

"  Hm,  hrumm! "  Thus  Hickey,  the  inoppor 
tunely  ubiquitous,  lumbering  hastily  in  from  the 
other  office  and  checking,  in  an  extreme  of  embar 
rassment,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

Maitland  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  and,  subduing 
a  desire  to  flay  the  man  alive,  released  the  girl's  hand. 

"  I  say,  Hickey,"  he  observed,  carefully  suppress 
ing  every  vestige  of  emotion,  "  will  you  lend  me  a 
hand  here?  Bring  a  chair,  please,  and  a  glass  of 
water." 

The  detective  stumbled  over  his  feet  and  brought 
the  chair  at  the  risk  of  his  neck.  Then  he  went  away 
and  returned  with  the  water.  In  the  meantime  the 
girl,  silently  enough  for  all  that  her  eyes  were  speak 
ing,  with  Maitland's  assistance  arose  and  seated 
herself. 

848 


RECESSIONAL 

"  You  will  have  to  stay  here  a  few  minutes,"  he 
told  her,  "  until— er " 

"  I  understand,"  she  told  him  in  a  choking  tone. 

Hickey  awkwardly  handed  her  the  glass.  She 
sipped  mechanically. 

"  I  have  a  cab  below,"  continued  Maitland.  "  And 
I'll  try  to  arrange  it  so  that  we  can  get  out  of  the 
building  without  having  to  force  a  way  through  the 
crowd." 

She  thanked  him  with  a  glance. 

"  There's  th'  freight  elevator,"  suggested  Hickey 
helpfully. 

"  Thank  you.  »  *  .  Is  there  anything  I  can 
do  for  you,  anything  you  wish?  "  continued  Mait 
land  to  the  girl,  standing  between  her  and  the  de 
tective. 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his  and  shook  her  head,  very 
gently.  "  No,"  she  breathed  through  trembling  lips. 

"  You — you've  been "  But  there  was  a  sob  in 

her  throat,  and  she  hung  her  head  again. 

"  Not  a  word,"  ordered  Maitland.  "  Sit  here  for 
a  few  minutes,  if  you  can,  drink  the  water  and — ah 

649 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

— fix  up  your  hat,  you  know,"  (damn  Hickey !  Why 
the  devil  did  the  fellow  insist  on  hanging  round  so!) 
"  and  I  will  go  and  make  arrangements." 

"  Th-thank  you,"  whispered  the  small  voice 
shakily. 

Maitland  hesitated  a  moment,  then  turned  upon 
Hickey  in  sudden  exasperation.  His  manner  was 
enough;  even  the  obtuse  detective  could  not  ignore 
it.  Maitland  had  no  need  to  speak. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  said,  standing  his  ground 
manfully  but  with  a  trace  more  of  respect  in  his  man 
ner  than  had  theretofore  characterized  it,  "  but 
there's  uh  gentleman — uh — your  fren'  Bannerman's 
outside  'nd  wants  tuh  speak  tuh  yeh." 

"  Tell  him  to " 

"  Excuse  me.  He  says  he's  gottuh  see  yeh.  If 
yeh  don't  come  out,  he'll  come  after  yeh.  I  thought 
yeh  'd  ruther " 

"That's  kindly  thought  of,"  Maitland  relented. 
"  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,"  he  added  meaningly. 

Hickey  took  an  impassive  face  to  the  doorway, 
where,  whether  or  not  with  design,  he  stood  precisely 

350 


RECESSIONAL 

upon  the  threshold,  filling  it  with  his  burly  shoulders. 
Maitland  bent  again  over  the  girl,  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Dearest,"  he  said  gently,  "  please  don't  run  away 
from  me  again." 

Her  eyes  were  brimming,  and  he  read  his  answer 
in  them.  Quickly — it  was  no  time  to  harry  her  emo 
tions  further;  but  so  much  he  had  felt  he  must  say — 
he  brushed  her  hand  with  his  lips  and  joined  Hickey. 
Thrusting  the  detective  gently  into  the  outer  room, 
with  a  not  unfriendly  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  Mait 
land  closed  the  door. 

"  Now,  see  here,"  he  said  quietly  and  firmly,  "  you 
must  help  me  arrange  to  get  this  lady  away  without 
her  becoming  identified  with  the  case,  Hickey.  I'm 
in  a  position  to  say  a  good  word  for  you  in  the  right 
place ;  she  had  positively  nothing  to  do  with  Anisty," 
(this,  so  far  as  he  could  tell,  was  as  black  a  lie  as  he 
had  ever  manufactured  under  the  lash  of  necessity), 
"  and — there's  a  wad  in  it  for  the  boys  who  help  me 
out." 

"  Well.  .  .  ."  The  detective  shifted  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  eying  him  intently.  "  I  guess  we 

351 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

can  fix  it, — freight  elevator  'nd  side  entrance.  Yeh 
have  the  cab  waitin',  'nd " 

"  I'll  go  with  the  lady,  you  understand,  and  as 
sume  all  responsibility.  You  can  come  round  at  your 
convenience  and  arrange  the  details  with  me,  at  my 
rooms,  since  you  will  be  so  kind." 

"  I  dunno."  Hickey  licked  his  lips,  watching  with 
a  somber  eye  the  preparations  being  made  for  the 
removal  of  Anisty's  body.  "  I'd  've  give  a  farm  if  I 
could  've  caught  that  son  of  a  gun  alive ! "  he  added 
at  apparent  random,  and  vindictively.  "  All  right. 
Yeh  be  responsible  for  th'  lady,  if  she's  wanted,  will 
yeh?  " 

"  Positively." 

"  I  gottuh  have  her  name  'nd  add-ress." 

"Is  that  essential?" 

"  Sure.  Gottuh  protect  myself  *n  case  anythin' 
turns  up.  Yeh  oughttuh  know  that." 

"  I — don't  want  it  to  come  out,"  Maitland  hesi 
tated,  trying  to  invent  a  plausible  lie. 

"  Well,  any  one  can  see  how  you  feel  about  it." 

Maitland  drew  a  long  breath  and  anticipated 
352 


RECESSIONAL 

rashly.     "  It's  Mrs.  Maitland,"  he  told  the  man  with 
a  tremor. 

Hickey  nodded,  unimpressed.  "  Uh-huh.  I 
knowed  that  all  along,"  he  replied.  "  But  seein'  as 
yeh  didn't  want  it  talked  about  .  .  ."  And,  ap 
parently  heedless  of  Maitland's  startled  and  suspi 
cious  stare :  "  If  yeh're  goin'  to  see  yer  f ren',  yeh 
better  get  a  wiggle  on.  He  won't  last  long." 

"Who?  Bannerman?  What  the  deuce  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  He's  the  feller  I  plugged  in  the  elevator,  that's 
all.  Put  a  hole  through  his  lungs.  They  took  him 
into  an  office  on  the  twenty-first  floor,  right  opp'site 
the  shaft." 

"  But  what  in  Heaven's  name  has  he  to  do  with 
this  ghastly  mess?  " 

Hickey  turned  a  shrewd  eye  upon  Maitland.  "  I 
guess  he  can  tell  yeh  better'n  me." 

With  a  smothered  exclamation,  Maitland  hurried 
away,  still  incredulous  and  impressed  with  a  belief, 
firmer  with  every  minute,  that  the  wounded  man  had 
been  wrongly  identified. 

353 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

He  found  him  as  Hickey  had  said  he  would,  sob 
bing  out  his  life,  supine  upon  the  couch  of  an  office 
which  the  janitor  had  opened  to  afford  him  a  place 
to  die  in.  Maitland  had  to  force  a  way  through  a 
crowded  doorway,  where  the  night-watchman  was 
holding  forth  in  aggrieved  incoherence  on  the  cruel 
treatment  he  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  law 
breakers.  A  phrase  came  to  Maitland's  ears  as  he 
shouldered  through  the  group. 

"  .  ••  «  .  grabbed  me  an'  trun  me  outer  the 
cage,  inter  the  hall,  an'  then  the  shootin'  begins,  an' 
I  jumps  down-stairs  t'  the  sixteent'  floor.  .  .  ." 

Bannerman  opened  dull  eyes  as  Maitland  entered, 
and  smiled  faintly. 

"  Ah~h,  Maitland,"  he  gasped ;  "  thought  you'd 
.  .  .  come." 

Racked  with  sorrow,  nothing  guessing  of  the  ca 
reer  that  had  brought  the  lawyer  to  this  pass,  Mait 
land  slipped  into  a  chair  by  the  head  of  the  couch 
and  closed  his  hand  over  Bannerman's  chubby,  icy 
fingers. 

354 


RECESSIONAL 

"  Poor,  poor  old  chap !  "  he  said  brokenly.  "  How 
in  Heaven 

But  at  Banner-man's  look  the  words  died  on  his 
lips.  The  lawyer  moved  restlessly.  "  Don't  pity 
me,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  This  is  what  I  might 
have  .  .  .  expected,  I  suppose  .  .  .  man 
of  Anisty's  stamp  .  .  .  desperate  character 
.  .  .  it's  all  right,  Dan,  my  just  due.  .  .  ." 

"  I  don't  understand,  of  course,"  faltered  Mait- 
land. 

Bannerman  lay  still  a  moment,  then  continued: 
"  I  know  you  don't.  That's  why  I  sent  for  you. 
.  .  .  'Member  that  night  at  the  Primordial? 
When  the  deuce  was  it?  I  .  .  .  can't  think 
straight  long  at  a  time.  .  .  .  That  night  I 
dined  with  you  and  touched  you  up  about  the  jewels? 
We  had  a  bully  salad,  you  know,  and  I  spoke  about 
the  Graeme  affair.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Well  .  .  .  I've  been  up  to  that  game  for 
years.  I'd  find  out  where  the  plunder  was,  and 

355 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

.  .  .  Anisty  always  divided  square.  ...  I 
used  to  advise  him.  ...  Of  course  you  won't 
understand, — you've  never  wanted  for  a  dollar  in 
your  life.  .  .  ." 

Maitland  said  nothing.  But  his  hand  remained 
upon  the  dying  man's. 

"  This  would  never  have  happened  if  ... 
Anisty  hadn't  been  impatient.  He  was  hard  to  han 
dle,  sometimes.  I  wasn't  sure,  you  know,  about  the 
jewels;  I  only  said  I  thought  they  were  at  Green 
fields.  Then  I  undertook  to  find  out  from  you,  but 
he  was  restive,  and  without  saying  anything  to  me 
went  down  to  Greenfields  on  his  own  hook — just  to 
have  a  look  around,  he  said.  And  so  ...  so  the 
fat  was  in  the  fire." 

"  Don't  talk  any  more,  Bannerman,"  Maitland 
tried  to  soothe  him.  "  You'll  pull  through  this  all 
right,  and —  You  need  never  have  gone  to  such 
lengths.  If  you'd  come  to  me "' 

The  ghost  of  a  sardonic  smile  flitted,  incongru 
ously,  across  the  dying  man's  waxen,  cherubic  fea 
tures. 

356 


RECESSIONAL 

"Oh,  hell,"  he  said;  "you  wouldn't  understand. 
Perhaps  you  weren't  born  with  the  right  crook  in 
your  nature, — or  the  wrong  one.  Perhaps  it's  be 
cause  you  can't  see  the  fun  in  playing  the  game.  It's 
that  that  counts." 

He  compressed  his  lips,  and  after  a  moment  spoke 
again.  "  You  never  did  have  the  true  sportsman's 
love  of  the  game  for  its  own  sake.  You're  like  most 
of  the  rest  of  the  crowd — content  with  mighty  cheap 
virtue,  Dan.  .«  .  .  I  don't  know  that  I'd  choose 
just  this  kind  of  a  wind-up,  but  it's  been  fun  while  it 
lasted.  Good-by,  old  man." 

He  did  not  speak  again,  but  lay  with  closed  eyes. 

Five  minutes  later  Maitland  rose  and  unclasped 
the  cold  fingers  from  about  his  own.  With  a  heavy 
sigh  he  turned  away. 

At  the  door  Hickey  was  awaiting  him.  "  Yer 
lady,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  they  had  drawn  apart  from 
the  crowd,  "  is  waitin'  for  yeh  in  the  cab  down-stairs. 
She  was  gettin'  a  bit  highsteerical  'nd  I  thought  I'd 
better  get  her  away.  .  .  .  Oh,  she's  waitin'  all 
right !  "  he  added,  alarmed  by  Maitland's  expression. 

357 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

But  Maitland  had  left  him  abruptly ;  and  now,  as 
he  ran  down  flight  after  echoing  flight  of  marble 
stairs,  there  rested  cold  fear  in  his  heart.  In  the 
room  he  had  just  quitted,  a  man  whom  he  had  called 
friend  and  looked  upon  with  affectionate  regard,  had 
died  a  self-confessed  and  unrepentant  liar  and  thief. 

If  now  he  were  to  find  the  girl  another  time  van 
ished, — if  this  had  been  but  a  ruse  of  hers  finally  to 
elude  him, — if  all  men  were  without  honor,  all  women 
faithless, — if  he  had  indeed  placed  the  love  of  his 
life,  the  only  love  that  he  had  ever  known,  unworth 
ily, — if  she  cared  so  little  who  had  seemed  to  care 
much 


xvn 

CONFESSIONAL 

I 

But  the  cab  was  there;  and  within  it  the  girl  was 
waiting  for  him. 

The  driver,  after  taking  up  his  fare,  had  at  her 
direction  drawn  over  to  the  further  curb,  out  of 
the  fringe  of  the  rabble  which  besieged  the  St. 
Luke  Building  in  constantly  growing  numbers,  and 
through  which  Maitland,  too  impatient  to  think  of 
leaving  by  the  basement  exit,  had  elbowed  and  fought 
his  way  in  an  agony  of  apprehension  that  brooked 
no  hindrance,  heeded  no  difficulty. 

He  dashed  round  the  corner,  stopped  short  with 
a  sinking  heart,  then  as  the  cabby's  signaling  whip 
across  the  street  caught  his  eye,  fairly  hurled  him 
self  to  the  other  curb,  pausing  at  the  wheel,  breath 
less,  lifted  out  of  himself  with  joy  to  find  her  faithful 
in  this  ultimate  instance. 

359 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

She  was  recovering,  whose  high  spirit  and  recuper 
ative  powers  were  to  him  then  and  always  remained 
a  marvelous  thing;  and  she  was  bending  forth  from 
the  body  of  the  hansom  to  welcome  him  with  a  smile 
that  in  a  twinkling  made  radiant  the  world  to  him 
who  stood  in  a  gloomy  side  street  of  New  York  at 
three  o'clock  of  a  summer's  morning, — a  good  hour 
and  a  half  before  the  dawn.  For  up  there  in  the 
tower  of  the  sky-scraper  he  had  as  much  as  told  her 
of  his  love;  and  she  had  waited;  and  now — and  now 
he  had  been  blind  indeed  had  he  failed  to  read  the 
promise  in  her  eyes.  Weary  she  was  and  spent  and 
overwrought;  but  there  is  no  tonic  in  all  the  world 
like  the  consciousness  that  where  one  has  placed  one's 
love,  there  love  has  burgeoned  in  response.  And 
despite  all  that  she  had  suffered  and  endured,  the 
happiness  that  ran  like  soft  fire  in  her  veins,  wrap 
ping  her  being  with  its  beneficent  rapture,  had  deep 
ened  the  color  in  her  cheeks  and  heightened  the 
glamour  in  her  eyes. 

And  he  stood  and  stared,  knowing  that  in  all  time 
to  no  man  had  ever  woman  seemed  more  lovely  than 

360 


CONFESSIONAL 

this  girl  to  him:  a  knowledge  that  robbed  his  mind 
of  all  other  thought  and  his  tongue  of  words,  so  that 
to  her  fell  the  task  of  rousing  him. 

"  Please,"  she  said  gently — "  please  tell  the  cabby 
to  take  me  home,  Mr.  Maitland." 

He  came  to  and  in  confusion  stammered:  Yes,  he 
would.  And  he  climbed  up  on  the  step  with  no  other 
thought  than  to  seat  himself  at  her  side  and  drive 
away  for  ever.  But  this  time  the  cabby  brought  him 
to  his  senses,  forcing  him  to  remember  that  some 
measure  of  coherence  was  demanded  even  of  a  man  in 
love. 

"Where  to,  sir?" 

"Eh,  what?  Oh!"  And  bending  to  the  girl: 
"  Home,  you  said ?  " 

She  told  him  the  address, — a  number  on  Park 
Avenue,  above  Thirty-fourth  Street,  below  Forty- 
second.  He  repeated  it  mechanically,  unaware  that 
it  would  remain  stamped  for  ever  on  his  memory, 
indelibly, — the  first  personal  detail  that  she  had 
granted  him :  the  first  barrier  down. 

He  sat  down.     The  cab  began  to  move,  and  halted 
361 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

again.  A  face  appeared  at  the  apron, — -Rickey's, 
red  and  moon-like  and  not  lacking  in  complacency: 
for  the  man  counted  of  profiting  variously  by  this 
night's  work. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Maitland,  'nd  " — touching  the 
rim  of  his  derby — "  yeh,  too,  ma'am,  f'r  buttin' 
in " 

"  Hickey ! "  demanded  Maitland  suddenly,  in  a 
tone  of  smoldering  wrath,  "  what  the — what  do  you 
want?" 

"  Yeh  told  me  tuh  call  round  to-morrow,  yeh 
know.  When'll  yeh  be  in?  " 

"  I'll  leave  a  note  for  you  with  O'Hagan.  Is  that 
all?  " 

"  Yep — that   is,   there's    somethin'   else      .     .     ." 

"Well?" 

"  Excuse  me  for  mentionin'  it,  but  I  didn't  know 
— it  ain't  generally  known,  yeh  know,  'nd  one  uh  th' 
boys  might  've  heard  me  speak  tuh  yer  lady  by  name 
'nd  might  pass  it  on  to  a  reporter.  What  I  mean's 
this,"  hastily,  as  the  Maitland  temper  showed  dan 
gerous  indications  of  going  into  active  eruption: 


CONFESSIONAL 

"  I  s'pose  yeh  don't  want  me  tub  mention  't  yeh're 
married,  jes'  yet?  Mrs.  Mai t hind  here,"  with  a  nod 
to  her,  "  didn't  seem  tuh  take  kindly  tuh  the  notion 
of  it's  bein'  known " 

"  Hickey ! " 

"  Ah,  excuse  me!  " 

"Drive  on,  cabby — instantly!     Do  you  hear?" 

Hickey  backed  suddenly  away  and  the  cab  sprang 
into  motion ;  while  Maitland  with  a  face  of  fire  sat 
back  and  raged  and  wondered. 

Across  Broadway  toward  Fourth  Avenue  dashed 
the  hansom ;  and  from  the  curb-line  Hickey  watclu-d 
it  with  a  humorous  light  in  his  dull  eyes.  Indeed, 
the  detective  seemed  in  extraordinary  conceit  with 
himself.  He  chewed  with  unaccustomed  emotion  upon 
his  cold  cigar,  scratched  his  cheek,  and  chuckled; 
and,  chuckling,  pulled  his  hat  well  down  over  his 
brows,  thrust  both  hands  into  his  trousers  pockets, 
and  shambled  back  to  the  St.  Luke  Building — his 
heavy  body  vibrating  amazingly  with  his  secret 
mirth. 

And  so,  shuffling  sluggishly,  he  merges  into  the 
363 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

shadows,  into  the  mob  that  surges  about  the  build 
ing,  and  passes  from  these  pages, 

n 

In  the  clattering  hansom,  steadying  herself  with  a 
hand  against  the  window-frame,  to  keep  from  being 
thrown  against  the  speechless  man  beside  her,  the 
girl  waited.  And  since  Maitland  in  confusion  at  the 
moment  found  no  words,  from  this  eloquent  silence 
she  drew  an  inference  unjustified,  such  as  lovers  are 
prone  to  draw,  the  world  over,  and  one  that  lent  a 
pathetic  color  to  her  thoughts,  and  chilled  a  little 
her  mood.  She  had  been  too  sure.  .  .  . 

But  better  to  have  it  over  with  at  once,  rather 
than  permit  it  to  remain  for  ever  a  wall  of  constraint 
between  them.  He  must  not  be  permitted  to  think 
that  she  would  dream  of  taking  him  upon  his  gen 
erous  word. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  she  said  in  a  steady, 
small  voice,  "  to  pretend  that  we — what  you  did  pre 
tend,  in  order  to  save  me  from  being  held  as  a 

364 


CONFESSIONAL 

witness.  At  least,  I  presume  that  is  why  you  did 
it?  " — with  a  note  of  uncertainty. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  that  you  should  be  drawn 
into  the  affair,"  he  replied,  with  some  resump 
tion  of  his  self-possession.  *'  It  isn't  as  if  you 
werc " 

"  A  thief?  "  she  supplied  as  he  hesitated. 

"  A  thief,"  he  assented  gravely. 

"  But  I — I  am,"  with  a  break  in  her  voice. 

"  But  you  are  not,"  he  asserted  almost  fiercely. 
And,  "  Dear,"  he  said  boldly,  "  don't  you  suppose  I 
know?  " 

"I     .     .     .     what  do  you  know?" 

"  That  you  brought  back  the  jewels,  for  one 
minor  thing.  I  found  them  almost  as  soon  as  you 
had  left.  And  then  I  knew  .  .  .  knew  that  you 
cared  enough  to  get  them  from  this  fellow  Anisty 
and  bring  them  back  to  me,  knew  that  I  cared  enough 
to  search  the  world  from  end  to  end  until  I  found 
you,  that  you  might  wear  them — if  you  would." 

But  she  had  drawn  away,  had  averted  her  face; 
365 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

and  he  might  not  see  it;  and  she  shivered  slightly, 
staring  out  of  the  window  at  the  passing  lights. 
He  saw,  and  perforce1  paused. 

"  You — you  don't  understand,"  she  told  him  in  a 
rush.  "  You  give  me  credit  beyond  my  due.  I 
didn't  break  into  your  flat  again,  to-night,  in  order 
to  return  the  jewels — at  least,  not  for  that  alone." 

"  But  you  did  bring  back  the  jewels?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Then  doesn't  that  prove  what  I  claim,  prove 
that  you've  cleared  yourself ?  " 

"  No,"  she  told  him  firmly,  with  the  firmness  of 
despair ;  "  it  does  not.  Because  I  did  not  come  for 
that  only.  I  came  with  another  purpose, — to  steal, 
as  well  as  to  make  restitution.  And  I  ...  I 
stole." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  on  his  part  incredu 
lous.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  What  did 
you  steal?  Where  is  it?  " 

"  I  have  lost  it " 

"  Was  it  in  your  hand-bag?  " 

"  You  found  that?  " 

366 


CONFESSIONAL 

"  You  dropped  it  in  the  trunk-closet.  I  found  it 
there.  There  is  something  of  mine  in  it?  " 

Dumb  with  misery,  she  nodded;  and  after  a  little, 
"  You  didn't  look,  of  course.  " 

"  I  had  no  right,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Other  men  wo-would  have  thought  they  had  the 
right.  I  th-think  you  had,  the  circumstances  con 
sidered.  At  all  events,"  steadying  her  voice,  "  I  say 
you  have,  now.  I  give  you  that  right.  Please  go 
and  investigate  that  hand-bag,  Mr.  Maitland.  I 
wish  you  to." 

He  turned  and  stared  at  her  curiously.  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  think,"  he  said.  "  I  can  not  be 
lieve " 

"  You  mu-must  believe.  I  have  no  right  to  profit 
by  your  disbelief.  .  .  .  Dear  Mr.  Maitland, 
you  have  been  kind  to  me,  very  kind  to  me;  do  me 
this  last  kindness,  if  you  will." 

The  young  face  turned  to  him  was  gravely  and 
perilously  sweet ;  very  nearly  he  forgot  all  else.  But 
that  she  would  not  have. 

"  Do  this  for  me.  .  .  .  What  you  will  find 
367 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

will  explain  everything.  You  will  understand.  Per 
haps  " — timidly — "  perhaps  you  may  even  find  it  in 
your  heart  to  forgive,  when  you  understand.  .  .  . 
If  you  should,  my  card-case  is  in  the  bag, 
and  ..."  She  faltered,  biting  her  lip 
cruelly  to  steady  a  voice  quivering  with  restrained 
sobs.  "  Please,  please  go  at  once,  and — and  see  for 
yourself !  "  she  implored  him  passionately. 

Of  a  sudden  he  found  himself  resolved.  Indeed, 
he  fancied  that  it  were  dangerous  to  oppose  her ;  she 
was  overwrought,  on  the  verge  of  losing  her  com 
mand  of  self.  She  wished  this  thing,  and  though 
with  all  his  soul  he  hated  it,  he  would  do  as  she 
desired. 

"  Very  well,"  he  assented  quietly.  "  Shall  I  stop 
the  cab  now  ?  " 

"  Please." 

He  tapped  on  the  roof  of  the  hansom  and  told  the 
cabby  to  draw  in  at  the  next  corner.  Thus  he  was 
put  down  not  far  from  his  home, — below  the  Thirty- 
third  Street  grade. 

Neither  spoke  as  he  alighted,  and  she  believed 
368 


CONFESSIONAL 

that  he  was  leaving  her  in  displeasure  and  abhor 
rence;  but  he  had  only  stepped  behind  the  cab  for  a 
moment  to  speak  to  the  driver.  In  a  moment  he 
was  back,  standing  by  the  step  with  one  hand  on  the 
apron  and  staring  in  very  earnestly  and  soberly  at 
the  shadowed  sweetness  of  her  pallid  face,  that 
gleamed  in  the  gloom  there  like  some  pale,  shy,  sad 
flower. 

Could  there  be  evil  combined  with  such  sheer  love 
liness,  with  features  that  in  every  line  bodied  forth 
the  purity  of  the  spirit  that  abode  within?  In  the 
soul  of  him  he  could  not  believe  that  a  thief's  nature 
fed  canker-like  at  the  heart  of  a  woman  so  divinely, 
naively  dear  and  desirable.  And  ...  he  would 
not. 

"Won't  you  let  me  go?" 

"  Just    a    minute.      I     ...     I   should   like    to 
If  I  find   that  you  have  done   nothing  so 
very  dreadful,"  he  laughed  uneasily,  "  do  you  wish 
to  know?" 

"  You  know  I  do."  She  could  not  help  saying 
that,  letting  him  see  that  far  into  her  heart. 

369 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  You  spoke  of  my  calling,  I  believe.  That  means 
to-morrow  afternoon,  at  the  earliest.  May  I  not 
call  you  up  on  the  telephone?  " 

"  The  number  is  in  the  book,"  she  said  in  a  tremu 
lous  voice. 

"  And  your  name  in  the  card-case?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  if  I  should  call  in  half  an  hour ?  " 

"  0,  I  shall  not  sleep  until  I  know !  .  .  . 
Good  night !  " 

"  Good  night !     .     .     .     Drive  on,  cabby." 

He  stood,  smiling  queerly,  until  the  hansom, 
climbing  the  Park  Avenue  hill,  vanished  over  its 
shoulder.  Then  swung  about  and  with  an  eager 
step  retraced  his  way  to  his  rooms,  very  confident 
that  God  was  in  His  Heaven  and  all  well  with  the 
world. 

m 

The  cab  stopped.  The  girl  rose  and  descended  to 
the  walk.  The  driver  touched  his  hat  and  reined 
the  horse  away.  "  Good  night,  ma'am,"  he  bade  her 

370 


CONFESSIONAL 

cheerfully.  And  she  told  him  "  Good  night "  in  her 
turn. 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  a  bit  hesitant  and  fear 
ful,  left  thus  alone.  The  house  in  front  of  which  she 
stood,  like  its  neighbors,  reared  a  high  fa9ade  to  the 
tender,  star-lit  sky,  its  windows,  with  drawn  shades 
and  no  lights,  wearing  a  singular  look  of  blind 
patience.  It  had  a  high  stoop  and  a  sunken  area. 
There  was  a  dull  glow  in  one  of  the  basement 
windows. 

It  was  very  late, — or  extremely  early.  The  moon 
was  down,  though  its  place  was  in  some  way  filled 
by  the  golden  disk  of  the  clock  in  the  Grand  Central 
Station's  tower.  The  air  was  impregnated  with  the 
sweet  and  fragrant  breath  of  the  new-born  day.  In 
the  tunnel  beneath  the  street  a  trolley-car  rumbled 
and  whined  and  clanked  lonesomely.  A  stray  cat 
wandered  out  of  a  cross-street  with  the  air  of  a 
seasoned  debauchee;  stopped,  scratched  itself  witli 
inimitable  abandon,  and  suddenly,  mysteriously 
alarmed  at  nothing,  turned  itself  into  a  streak  of 
shadow  that  fled  across  the  street  and  vanished. 

371 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

And,  as  if  affected  by  its  terror,  the  grey  girl  slipped 
silently  into  the  area  and  tapped  at  the  lighted 
window. 

Almost  immediately  the  gate  was  cautiously 
opened.  A  woman's  head  looked  out,  with  suspicion. 
"  Oh,  thank  Heavings !  "  it  said  with  abrupt  fervor. 
"  I  was  afraid  it  mightn't  be  you,  Miss  Sylvia.  I'm 
so  glad  you're  back.  There  ain't — hasn't  been  a 
minute  these  past  two  nights  that  I  haven't  been  in 
a  fidget." 

The  girl  laughed  quietly  and  passed  through  the 
gateway  (which  was  closed  behind  her)  into  the  base 
ment  hall,  where  she  lingered  a  brief  moment. 

"  My  father,  Annie  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  He  ain't — hasn't  stirred  since  you  went  out.  Miss 
Sylvia.  He's  sleepin'  peaceful  as  a  lamb." 

"  Everything  is  all  right,  then  ?  " 

"  Now  that  you're  home,  it  is,  praises  be !  "  The 
servan*  secured  the  inner  door  and  turned  up  the 
gas.  "  Not  if  I  was  to  be  given  notice  to-morrow 
mornin',"  she  announced  firmly,  "  will  I  ever  consent 
to  be  a  party  to  such  goin's-on  another  night." 

372 


CONFESSIONAL 

"  There  will  be  no  occasion,  Annie,"  said  the  girl. 
"  Thank  you,  and — good  night." 

A  resigned  sigh, — "  Good  night,  Miss  Sylvia," — 
followed  her  up  the  stairs. 

She  went  very  cautiously,  careful  to  brush  against 
no  article  of  movable  furniture  in  the  halls,  at  pains 
to  make  no  noise  on  the  stairs.  At  the  door  of  her 
father's  room  on  the  second  floor  she  stopped  and 
listened  for  a  full  moment;  but  he  was  sleeping  as 
quietly,  as  soundly,  as  the  servant  had  declared. 
Then  on,  more  hurriedly,  up  another  flight,  to  her 
own  room,  where  she  turned  on  the  electric  bulb  in 
panic  haste.  For  it  had  just  occurred  to  her  that 
the  telephone  bell  might  ring  before  she  could  change 
her  clothing  and  get  down-stairs  and  shut  herself 
into  the  library,  whose  closed  door  would  prevent  the 
bell  from  being  audible  through  the  house. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  she  was  stealing  silently 
clown  to  the  drawing-room  floor  again,  quiet  as  a 
spirit  of  the  night.  The  library  door  shut  without 
a  sound:  for  the  first  time  she  breathed  freely. 
Then,  pressing  the  button  on  the  wall,  she  switched 

373 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

on  the  light  in  the  drop-lamp  on  the  center-table. 
The  telephone  stood  beside  it. 

She  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  near  the  instru 
ment,  ready  to  lift  the  receiver  off  its  hook  the  instant 
the  bell  began  to  sound;  and  waited,  the  soft  light 
burning  in  the  loosened  tresses  of  her  hair,  enhancing 
the  soft  color  that  pulsed  in  her  cheeks,  fading  be 
fore  the  joy  that  lived  in  her  eyes  when  she 
hoped  .  .  . 

For  she  dared  hope — at  times ;  and  at  times  could 
not  but  fear.  So  greatly  had  she  dared,  who  greatly 
loved,  so  heavy  upon  her  untarnished  heart  was  the 
burden  of  the  sin  that  she  had  put  upon  it,  because 
she  loved.  .  .  .  Perhaps  he  would  not  call ;  per 
haps  the  world  was  to  turn  cold  and  be  for  ever  grey 
to  her  eyes.  He  was  even  then  deciding;  at  that 
very  moment  her  happiness  hung  in  the  scales  of  his 
mercy.  If  he  could  forgive.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  click.  And  her  face  flamed  scarlet, 
as  hastily  she  lifted  the  receiver  to  her  ear.  The 
armature  buzzed  sharply.  Then  Central's  voice  cut 
the  stillness, 

374 


CONFESSIONAL 

"Hello!     Nine-o-five-one?" 

"Yes.     .     .     ." 

"  Wait  a  minute." 

She  waited,  breathless,  in  a  quiver.  The  silence 
sang  upon  the  wire,  the  silence  of  the  night  through 
which  he  was  groping  toward  her.  .  .  . 

"  Hello  !     Is  this  Nine-o  -  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  " 

"  Is  this  the  residence  of  Alexander  C.  Graeme?  " 

"  Yes."     The  syllable  almost  choked  her. 

"  Is  this  Miss  Graeme  at  the  'phone?  " 

"  It  is." 

"Miss  Sylvia  Graeme?" 


"This  is  Daniel  Maitland.     .     .     .     Sylvia!" 

"  As  if  I  did  not  know  your  voice  !  "  she  cried 
involuntarily. 

There  followed  a  little  pause;  and  in  her  throat 
the  pulses  tightened  and  drummed. 

"  I  have  opened  the  bag,  Sylvia.     .     .     ." 

"Please  go  on." 

375 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  And  I've  sounded  the  depths  of  your  hideous 
infamy. !  " 

"  Oh !  "    He  was  laughing. 

"  I've  done  more.  I've  made  a  burnt  offering, 
within  the  last  five  minutes.  Can  you  guess  what 
it  is?" 

"  I — I — don't  want  to  guess !    I  want  to  be  told." 

"  A  burnt  offering  on  the  altar  of  your  happiness, 
dear.  The  papers  in  the  case  of  the  Dougherty  In 
vestment  Company  no  longer  exist." 

"Dan!" 

"Sylvia.     .     .     .     Does  it  please  you?" 

"  Don't  you  know?  .  .  .  How  can  it  do  any 
thing  but  please  me?  If  you  knew  how  I  have 
suffered  because  my  father  suffered,  fearing  J:he 
.  .  .  No,  but  you  must  listen!  Dan,  it  was 
wearing  him  down  to  his  grave,  and  I  thought " 

"  You  thought  that  if  you  could  get  the  papers 
and  give  them  to  him " 

"Yes.     I  could  see  no  harm,  because  he  was  as 

innocent  as  you " 

^  Of  course.    But  why  didn't  you  ask  me?  " 
376 


Hush!     Central  will  hear!"     Page  377 


CONFESSIONAL 

"  He  did,  and  you  refused." 

"  But  how  could  I  tell,  Sylvia,  that  you  were  his 
daughter,  and  that  I  should " 

"Hush!     Central  will  hear !" 

"  Central's  got  other  things  to  do,  besides  listen 
ing  to  early  morning  confabulations.     I  love  you." 

"Dan.     .     .     ." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  love — to  hear  you  say  so,  dear." 

"  Please  say  that  last  word  over  again.     I  didn't 
get  it." 

"Dear.     .     .     ." 

"  And  that  means  that  you'll  marry  me?  " 

A  pause. 

"  I  say,  that  means " 

"  I  heard  you,  Dan." 

"But  it  does,  doesn't  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

"  Whenever  you  please." 

"  I'll  come  up  now." 

"  Don't  be  a  silly." 

377 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  Well,  when  then?     To-day?  " 

"  Yes— no!  " 

"But  when?" 

"  To-morrow — I  mean  next  week — I  mean  next 
month." 

"  No ;  to-day  at  four.     I'll  call  for  you." 

"  But,  Dan.     .     .     ." 

"  Sweetheart !  " 

"But  you  mustn't!     .     .     .     How  can  I " 

"Easily  enough.  There's  the  Little-Church- 
Around-the-Corner " 

"  But  I've  nothing  to  wear !  " 

"Oh!" 

Another  pause. 

"Dan.     .     .     .     You  don't  wish  it— truly?" 

"  I  do  wish  it,  truly.  To-day,  at  four.  The 
Church  of  the  Transfiguration.  Yes,  I'll  scare  up 
a  best  man  if  you'll  find  bridesmaids.  Now  you 
will,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I — if  you  wish  it,  dear." 

"  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  repeat  that." 

"I  shan't.    There!" 

378 


CONFESSIONAL 

"  Very  well,"  meekly.  "  But  will  you  tell  me  one 
thing,  please?  " 

"  What  is  it?  " 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  get  hold  of  that  kit  of 
tools?" 

She  laughed  softly.  "  My  big  Drotfier  caught  a 
burglar  once,  and  kept  the  kit  for  a  remembrance. 
I  borrowed  them." 

"  Give  me  your  big  brother's  address  and  I'll  send 
'em  back  with  my  thanks — No,  by  George!  I  won't, 
either.  I've  as  much  right  to  keep  'em  as  he  has  on 
that  principle." 

And  again  she  laughed,  very  gently  and  happily. 
Dear  God,  that  such  happiness  could  come  to  one ! 

"Sylvia?" 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"  Do  you  love  me?  " 

"  I  think  you  may  believe  it,  when  I  sit  here  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  listening  to  a  silly  boy 
talk  nonsense  over  a  telephone  wire." 

"  But  I  want  to  hear  you  say  so ! " 

"  But  Central " 

379 


THE    BRASS    BOWL 

"  I  tell  you  Central  has  other  things  to  do !  " 
At  this  juncture  the  voice  of  Central,  jaded  and 
acidulated,  broke  in  curtly: 
"  Are  you  through?  " 


'/>~        -~ 


I 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


